Understanding: Fluctuat Nec Mertigur
by Roadblock Malloy
Summary: Seventh year proves challenging for a number of students and it's an uphill battle for most. This is their story. [MF, TH, PW, OW, PC, RD, OC]
1. Chapter I: Pain and suffering

[A/N: Marcus, Percy, Oliver, Penelope and anyone else that is not Xanne belong to J.K. Rowling. Xanne is my own character but is not me. I just happen to like the name and there is also Xanne that is me, but that's a whole different story. I was in a morbid mood as I wrote this story, so.yeah, you'll see what I'm talking about when you read it.]  
  
Understanding  
  
Ch. I: Pain and Suffering  
  
Xanne walked slowly down the dark and deserted corridor, her robes and her broomstick became heavier and heavier with every trudging step. Finally, she gave in and passed out under the painting of Uric the Oddball.  
  
She felt herself being shaken awake by some red-robed someone. She couldn't make out his face; it was just too hard to see. The world around her was fuzzy.  
  
"Malloy," he said, a bit alarmed. "Malloy, wake up."  
  
She looked up and found herself face to face with Gryffindor captain and keeper Oliver Wood. Behind him stood the current Head Boy, Percy Weasley.  
  
"Wood," she spat. Gryffindor had just beaten Slytherin hours before, followed by a grueling practice, which Xanne hadn't taken too kindly to. "Take your do-gooder Gryffindor hands off of me."  
  
"I was only trying to help, Malloy," he said, clearly affronted. Weasley decided this was the moment to chime in.  
  
"I think I'll go Oliver," he looked down at the Slytherin with a mixture of pity and disgust.  
  
"I think you've helped enough," her dark eyes darkened even more with a scowl as she watched Weasley go. "I lost the game for us; Flint made us practice for hours. One measly goal I missed, you swatted it away. I paid with suicides."  
  
"Muggle suicides?" he said, frowning. "They're not that bad, just running up and down the pitch a few times, right? You're fit enough for that."  
  
"No," she said, massaging her severely bruised side. "While you and the Gryffindors ate your victory feast, I was doing Flint suicides. Being tied to a goalpost and having the bludgers let loose."  
  
"But that's dangerous!" he exclaimed, shocked. "The bludgers have broken bones, jaws.even caused brain damage! The beaters.They didn't, they didn't.did they?"  
  
"Bole and Derrick? Flint's the reason they pass Transfiguration. They apologized, true, but Flint forced them to make me pay for losing the game. At least they were friends enough to aim for safe spots."  
  
"There is no safe spot to get hit with a bludger!" he lifted the bottom of her green sweater and was greeted with two blackish green splotches before she slapped his hand away.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?!" she snapped.  
  
"Checking to see if you're okay," he said. "Isn't Flint your boyfriend? How could he just."  
  
"The win.he does it for the win. You know all about that Wood." She looked over at him knowingly.  
  
"We do it a bit differently over in Gryffindor, thanks," Wood said harshly.  
  
"Well, bully for Gryffindor," Xanne stood up, clutching her sides. "I'm sorry my personality put me where it hurts six years ago."  
  
"Look," Wood said, standing up also. "I didn't mean it like that, Malloy."  
  
"Well," she said, picking up her robes and looking over at him. "That's how you said it, Wood."  
  
She said "up" in a pained voice, her broom shot up into her outstretched hand. Turning away, she felt something strange, almost like guilt toward the Gryffindor. She had been rather rude, but she attributed that to her wonderful Slytherin charm.  
  
Whatever she felt, it was nothing to how sorry he was for her. Her boyfriend.well, he was Marcus Flint. It was expected that he would be a heartless bastard.  
  
* * *  
  
"Xanne," a gruff voice said from over her head. She looked up and saw him, her special someone. "I'm sorry, love."  
  
"Yes," she muttered quietly, nursing her sides, which were every color except the normal cream they were supposed to be. "I know, Marcus."  
  
"It's just." he faltered, looking determined to be understood. "If I don't treat you like one of the team, the guys will think I'm playing favorites. Well, if truth be told, I'd rather have you than all of those sweaty rabbles."  
  
"That's nice to know," she said, reaching up slowly and tracing a hand down his cheek. He smiled gravely and took a seat next to her. Xanne nestled into his arms and laid there for quite some time, feeling a mixture of safety and anxiety.  
  
"I'll always love you," Marcus said, kissing her forehead. He didn't notice the tears that fell from her eyes onto his quidditch robes. Soon, they both dozed off and were content with just being in each other's arms.  
  
* * *  
  
Xanne found herself being shaken awake. All she could think was how it must be some ungodly hour. She looked at her wristwatch. It was only two thirty. Marcus had awoken her.  
  
"Come on," he said in his scratchy voice. "It's getting late."  
  
Marcus took her hand and she began to walk towards the girls' corridor. He grasped her hand more firmly, and pulled her close to himself. His dark eyes met hers and they slipped into a soft kiss.  
  
He guided her into his dorms and they lay down on his four poster bed, lips never leaving the others.  
  
"Oh," Xanne gasped painfully, he had rolled on top of her, causing her bruises to throb in agony.  
  
"I'm so sorry," he whispered into her ear and carefully lifted her sweater. His eyes gained a melancholy mist as he looked over the damage he had done.  
  
She looked up into those dark pools of ebony; somehow they seemed less manic than they did at practice. He looked adoringly back at her and laid his head down on her chest. He had abandoned all desires of physicality for that night. She was surprised to see him lower his head to her chest, hot tears leaking out of his eyes. That was how they were found the next morning, by the Slytherin prefect Terrence Higgs.  
  
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[Thank you for reading.Next chapter is done and is to be uploaded next. Please REVIEW!  
  
Oooh.what will Terrence have to say? And Oliver, I don't think he's finished either. What's Percy's problem anyway?] 


	2. Chapter II: Repercussions

[A/N: Oliver looks on through the glass and is afraid of what he sees. Percy is having problems of his own. Marcus confronts the prefect with whom he has a grudge with. Xanne has some questionable thoughts.]  
  
  
  
Ch. II: Repercussions  
  
Oliver saw them in the Great Hall the next morning, a lot more curious about their relationship after the previous day's events. Xanne was clutching his arm as if it would fall off. Flint.his expression was as arrogant as ever. There was no doubt in Oliver's mind what had gone on down in the Slytherin Dungeons that night.  
  
"Leave it alone Wood," came a curt voice from behind. Percy Weasley stood there with a particularly sour expression on his face. "Those Slytherins are none of your business."  
  
"Gee Perce," Oliver said, slightly amused. "The Head boy, of all people, being prejudiced toward the Slytherins.tsk, tsk."  
  
"Oh sod off Wood," he replied. "You know perfectly well I'm only trying to warn you. I saw the way you looked at that prefect when she passed out in the corridor. Oliver Wood.and a Slytherin?! What would everyone say?"  
  
"What exactly are you implying?" he snapped, perfectly aware that the whole Gryffindor table and about half of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were curiously watching the two friends quarrel.  
  
"You, don't even try to deny it, Wood! I know that look, that look when you care, and it was plastered all over your face!"  
  
"Obviously you can't decipher between 'I want to shag you,' and 'Oh my god, are you okay?!' Dammit Percy, she's badly injured from quidditch!"  
  
"I saw no accident during the game," said Percy, turning up his nose.  
  
"Oh, go read a book!" Oliver shouted as he headed for the door. Once outside, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He found himself once again face to face with the Sixth year Slytherin girl the quarrel between him and his best friend had started over.  
  
"Wood," said a confident voice. "I'd like to.er, apologize for yesterday. I was a bit snippy with you."  
  
"It's fine," he said, rather quickly. "I was just worried yesterday, that's all. Quidditch is brutal."  
  
"Well, I'm feeling much better now, thanks," she said in a final sort of way. She turned to leave.  
  
"I'm sure you are," Wood muttered, sarcastically.  
  
"Excuse me," she rounded angrily on him. Her dark eyes were blazing.  
  
"Oh, don't be daft," he glared at her. "It's obvious what happened last night. Flint almost killed you, shagged you to make it better, and now everything's just peachy keen."  
  
"Where do you get off-?"  
  
"Xanne," said a deep voice behind her. She turned to find Marcus.  
  
"Speak of the devil," Oliver muttered.  
  
Xanne, on the other hand was rather pleased to see him. She walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the doorway. She grabbed his arm and made as to steer him to a more private locale. Both Slytherins looked back over their shoulders. Xanne's look conveyed great satisfaction. Flint's wasn't hard to read at all. His clearly stated 'mine' as he tightened his arms around the girl's waist (apologizing profusely as she winced in pain).  
  
* * * 'Sometimes people just don't know what's good for them,' thought Percy. He had taken Oliver's advice and gone to read a book.  
  
"Damn," he swore out loud, slamming "So, you Want to be the Next Minister of Magic" by Emerick Entwhistle down on the table.  
  
"Something wrong Percy darling?" he looked up to find his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater staring back at him.  
  
"No Penny dear," he said in his most aristocratic way. "Just a little tense, N.E.W.T.s are coming, you know?"  
  
"Not for six months Percy," she smiled warmly and took a seat beside him before getting a little bit edgy herself. "Aren't you going to ask me if anything's wrong?"  
  
"Why would I? You seem perfectly fine Penelope."  
  
"Well, maybe because there is something wrong Percy."  
  
"What is it," he gasped in mock concern. "What could possibly be ailing you my little sugar plum fairy?"  
  
"Percy," she began. Percy braced himself; she didn't look like she'd be shutting up any time soon. "When's the last time you and I kissed?"  
  
"Er-."  
  
"Exactly!" she smacked her hand down on his book. "I barely even see you anymore, Percy Weasley! And when I do see you, we're either around my Ravenclaws or your Gryffindors. Either that or we're alone and you treat me like I'm your sister."  
  
"Actually, I talk to Ginny quite a lot more than I talk to you, Clearwater."  
  
"Clearwater! You've never called me Clearwater before! What the hell's wrong with you Percy?"  
  
"What's wrong with me? You can't even begin to imagine what's wrong with me. With being Head Boy and all."  
  
"Percy, I'm Head Girl, I know what it's like and that is not what's bothering you!" she fixed a worried glance on the boy. He ran his fingers through his straight, dark red hair.  
  
"I can't talk about it."  
  
"Nonsense Percy, we've always told each other everything," she put her arm around him and he roughly shook it off.  
  
Percy stood up and grabbed his book off the table. Brutally shoving it into his bag, he turned to her.  
  
"Don't owl me!" with that, he turned and walked away slowly, as not to attract any more attention.  
  
"I love you Percy," she yelled after him, earning a reproving glare from Madam Pince.  
  
"That'll have to change," and with that, Percy Weasley left the library, and any romantic future with Penelope Clearwater.  
  
He simply walked away. He'd probably never know that she cried herself to sleep for the next three nights. Her Ravenclaw friends tried to make her feel better by offering to let her do their homework, but she politely declined. Her love of two years was lost. She regretted the breakup, but didn't give any second thoughts to it, as it was his decision not hers. She made no further inquiry to what was troubling him.  
  
* * *  
  
"I think I'm going to have a word with Wood," Marcus Flint had that look in his eye again. He looked over to his former teammate and sighed.  
  
"Flint, that's not what we're here to talk about," said the prefect in a businesslike manner. Terrence Higgs looked the part of the prefect. Flaxen hair that fell loosely in his face, blue eyes so bright that he looked cheerful even in the most grave of circumstances. One thing Flint never understood was why the boy had been put in Slytherin. Never, that is, until he had witnessed the boy play quidditch. He had ruthlessness about him that only Flint could rival on the pitch. But things had changed and certain exceptions were made for players that could benefit the team. Higgs had been cut; Lucius Malfoy's son replaced him, bringing new brooms and a seemingly unshakeable losing streak.  
  
But Higgs wasn't talking about that. He had temporarily slipped into prefect mode and was getting dangerously close to crossing the Percy Weasley line of exaggeration.  
  
"Marcus, you've been here long enough, you understand the rules," he cast a pleading look over his surly housemate. "Never.for any reason, are you allowed to have someone of the opposite sex in your dormitories. You not only broke the rule you shattered it! She was in your bed! You weren't clothed, that's a given."  
  
He rouged a color that even Weasley himself probably wasn't used to. Looking down at his feet, he continued his scolding.  
  
"I know what went on," he said gruffly. "And it's against the rules in itself. I don't know whether to take away house points or just go straight to Dumbledore."  
  
"You could just go to Snape," Flint offered, looking quite hopeful.  
  
"Why? So he can congratulate Slytherin's golden couple on a job well done? I think not."  
  
"You don't even know what happened!"  
  
"I'm sure I do. I'm not a child after all," he stared determined into the older boy's eyes.  
  
"You obviously don't know what it's like to be in love," he roared. "Xanne and I are in love!"  
  
"I guess I don't. Normally, people don't intentionally endanger the lives of people they love," he eyed Flint's astonished expression. "Yes.I know. Montague told me."  
  
Fling made a mental note to have a word with his keeper. Zeke Montague had made a big mistake. Perhaps old Monty would like some suicides of his own.  
  
"No more, Flint, that's not the way to run a quidditch team," he said matter of factly.  
  
"Like you'd know anything about it Higgs! As I recall, Snape chose me over you fifth year."  
  
"You were older. I won't talk about this now, Flint. I'll let you off with a warning," he had a look of defeat in his blazing blue eyes. "Good luck at the game next week. Tell that Malfoy boy to focus, Slytherin could use a win."  
  
Higgs started towards the door of the common room. He stopped short as someone walked in.  
  
Xanne Malloy entered, looking curiously from Higgs' worried expression to Marcus' surly one.  
  
"Alright Terrence?" she smiled warmly.  
  
"Fine Xanne," he answered a little less chipper than usual. He then leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. He stepped back and she nodded solemnly. Terrence looked back at Marcus one more time before sighing and leaving the room.  
  
"What did he say," Marcus asked her forcefully.  
  
"He told me that Callie'd be having a word with me sometime." Callie Dunnon was the other seventh year prefect, not as intense as Higgs, but close. Xanne being a prefect herself would either get in twice the trouble or none at all. She had a way with words and got out of things often, but Marcus wasn't sure if the older girl would let her slide. After all, Dunnon was a Slytherin, as sharp as ever.  
  
"What else," he calmed a bit as she lay down on the couch, legs draped over his lap.  
  
"That I could talk to him whenever I need to," she looked worried at the utterance of those last words.  
  
"You don't need Higgs," he said flatly. His dark smile then cleared the air. "You've always got me."  
  
'Until I screw up in the next quidditch game,' Xanne thought before she could stop herself. What was she thinking? She loved Marcus more than life itself; she couldn't let these thoughts plague her like that.  
  
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[Is Xanne having second thoughts? In the next chapter you'll find out about her and Marcus's past. Marcus also has a little chat with the Gryffindor quidditch captain.] 


	3. Chapter III: Sanity

[A/N: I was in an extremely depressed mood when I wrote this chapter and I was listening to some morbid music by COLD, so.it'll explain itself.]  
  
  
  
  
  
Ch. III: Sanity  
  
"I have to talk to you," said a voice that was no more than a whisper. Oliver turned around to find Marcus Flint standing there, hovering over him. The library was usually deserted at this hour, making it perfect for a midnight study session. He loved it for one reason nobody disturbed him. That streak had been interrupted by the appearance of the Slytherin captain.  
  
"Fine then, but make it quick," Wood muttered, closing his transfiguration book.  
  
"Let's make one thing straight," Marcus's eyes were dark and stormy. "We'll be finished when I'm finished, and not before."  
  
Oliver felt a sense of foreboding, though he knew not what he had done. He tried as best he could to stare just as harshly back into the eyes of the older boy as he began his speech.  
  
"I want to know why, exactly, Xanne was so upset outside the Great Hall." When Marcus had said this, Oliver opened his mouth, as if to reply, but was cut off. "Don't answer me yet. Quidditch has kept us hating each other, and I'm fine with that. I hate you, you hate me, and it works out perfectly. But that hate was only skin deep, and if you choose to cross me where it hurts, you will be the one hurting."  
  
"What do you mean to say?" Oliver crossed his arms. "That I was stepping in on your property?"  
  
"Precisely, see, I knew you were smarter than you looked," Marcus looked delighted, which was a frightening sight indeed.  
  
"But, she came up to me outside the Great Hall. She initiated a conversation with me. Because I had found her in the hallway, a little hurt from one of your practices, but you wouldn't know much about that, would you?"  
  
"How I run my team is none of your business, Wood."  
  
"You're only partly right. It is my business when someone is injured." His amber colored eyes now bore into those of the older young man. "I took it upon myself to look into Malloy's injuries. As I found out, she had two broken ribs and was quite badly bruised."  
  
"That, is our problem, not yours. Or do you need me to say it again Wood, because I would surely oblige you."  
  
"Is this all you meant to talk to me about, because I need to get back to my studies," he opened his book and began to read intently. Flint reached over a hand and slammed the book shut, his face dangerously close to that of the Gryffindor.  
  
"I told you once, we will be done when I say so."  
  
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The torches were dimly lit and the light flicker on the tile was almost soothing. The prefect's bathroom truly was a splendid place. Xanne looked up at the picture of the mermaid, casually dozing. The hour had changed from quite late at night to quite early in the morning. Her mind was incredibly troubled. How could someone who loved her do something so horrible? He had said he was sorry, sure, but there was more to him than met the eye.  
  
She had met him when she tried out for the quidditch team, having seen him before in the common room and around the school, but never having truly met him. His face was dark and wan, but it was obvious that the quidditch atmosphere pleased him. His black hair had fallen loosely around his face, and his blacker eyes stood out as she walked nearer holding a broomstick.  
  
He smirked when he saw her, wondering what the hell she was doing, no doubt. It was common knowledge that there were no girls on the Slytherin quidditch team. After the tryout, he admitted that she had flown well, and her fluid handle of the quaffle was indeed impressive. She had nodded; assuming the try out was over and headed into the changing rooms. Looking into the mirror as she washed her hands of the dirt and grit of the quidditch pitch, she saw him coming closer behind her.  
  
His hand had reached up and brushed her chin length black hair out of her eyes. A heavily callused thumb traced the line of her chin from her ear to her face. She smirked and turned to face him, he was not intimidating, and those dark eyes just pleaded with her. She reached up and ran her hand through the thick black hair that hung limply around his face. Taking control of the situation, he pushed his face down onto hers and she fought back, ruthlessly pressing her lips onto his. She shoved him backwards, enjoying the surprised and deranged look in his eyes. She placed her palm on his chest and pushed him down on the purple couch that was stationed across the room from the sinks. Taking his robes in her fists, she straddled him and brought his face up to meet hers.  
  
He grinned as she tore his robes off of his chest and gasped as she brought her face down on his bare skin, licking and biting him, surely leaving red marks all over his chest. Soon, they had both abandoned their robes and Flint had taken a bit more control, pinning her beneath him. She simply gazed up at him, with hooded eyes, clearly wanting what came next just as bad as he did.  
  
For months, that was the nature of their relationship. She used him and he used her. She did, as if she doubted it for a second, make the quidditch team. It was not uncommon for him to show up at her dorm in the middle of the night, with those dark eyes boring into hers. It was also a common occurrence for her to show up at his side in the middle of the night, sometimes not bothering to wake him up before she climbed beneath the blankets and began to kiss him.  
  
They ignored each other in public, not wanting anyone to suspect anything. After all, their kind of interaction was strictly forbidden at Hogwarts. This had gone on for only a few months before he had realized that jealousy was to get the best of him.  
  
At practice one day, the keeper, Nathan Bletchley, had made a comment about Xanne. Something along the lines of 'getting a piece of that.' Flint had immediately flown to his beater Derrick, taking his beater's club and hammering a bludger full speed into Bletchley's face. Not only did the keeper refrain from making comments about the only female member of the team, he had ran full speed to the hospital wing to be repaired by Madam Pomphrey. His nose was most definitely broken, both eyes blackened, and two teeth were knocked out. Xanne had taken it as a compliment and rewarded him for it later that night. He had mentioned something about seeing each other exclusively, and she agreed. They still never went to Hogsmeade together or anything of that sort, but they were often found in the library where she helped him with his assignments, especially his second time through seventh year.  
  
It was all so vivid in her mind, those memories of the last two years. But she also remembered the hard times.  
  
She had been nominated as a prefect, 'the Pride of Slytherin,' as Professor Snape had called her in jest one day. It was common knowledge that Severus Snape did not say things in jest, so she took this as quite an accomplishment. Meeting with one of the prefects a year above her, Terrence Higgs, she had a long discussion about the reputation of the Slytherin house. They had sat there in the common room until two in the morning discussing a possible course of action to try and boost the morale and distinction of their friends. That was when Marcus had come down the stairs and lifting Higgs off the ground by his robes, hissing at him about whom belongs to whom. The dispute with Higgs was over practically before it started, as Xanne was able to tear him away.  
  
Once the other prefect had gone up to his quarters, she had rounded on Flint. It just wasn't right to come barging in on someone when they were having a conversation. And it was even more wrong still, to try and harm someone on the basis of a harmless talk. She accosted him for about another minute before he lashed out and brought a stinging slap to her cheek, rocking her head to one side. Too proud to cry, she scowled at him and ignored the pain in her face and neck. He had immediately looked remorseful, but let her walk away. The next day, there were rose petals on her floor and a bouquet of flowers and a gift on her bedside table. One of the girls in her dorm asked her if it was indeed he who had given it to her. When she responded positively, the girl had sighed wistfully about how great Marcus was.  
  
The gift had been a necklace. It was a silver talon of an eagle, falcon, or some other bird of prey clutching a black orb. The orb was no bigger than a marble, but it shone in the candlelight and became stormy with her anger and placid with her happiness. The stone was an onyx. It was used to restore emotional balance and self-control. It was also a reliever of stress.  
  
She sat there in the bathroom, still marveling at the trinket around her neck, and the tears began to fall from her eyes. The onyx was not stormy, or placid, but burning blacker than she had ever seen it do so. The torchlight played gracefully on it. She sighed before letting it drop down onto the fabric of her black robes. Pulling the black wizard's hat off of her head, and the rectangular glasses off of her face, she reached over into the bag she carried.  
  
She pulled out a straight edge razor. It glimmered beautifully in the torchlight also. Pausing slightly to look at her reflection in the blade, she ran her finger lightly across the edge, feeling the sharpness of it.  
  
Xanne looked at her reflection one more time, doubting herself. Knowing what she intended to do, but wondering if she could actually carry it out. Her life was almost perfect, and yet she felt such a longing to be rid of the pain that would just not go away.  
  
Slowly, she pulled back the wide sleeve of her robes and brought the sharp blade to her wrist. She pushed a corner of it into her skin slightly and felt it sink in. She couldn't help but wonder where the agony was, there was absolutely no pain. It was oddly satisfying. Blood trickled down into her palm and fell to the clean white tile in tiny droplets.  
  
That moment, as she watched the tiny droplets of crimson fall onto the shining tile, the door of the bathroom creaked open and her heart leapt up into her throat. Her eyes darted to the door to see who had intruded into her privacy.  
  
A tall, tired looking boy walked through the door. Once noticing he was not alone, he fixed his gaze on the girl huddled in the corner. She met his eyes, even in the darkness; the cerulean pools were shimmering. His red hair fell in his face slightly, and he looked tired and worn.  
  
Once recognizing her, Percy Weasley looked down at her hands. The milky white of her arm had been exposed and the only sound was the droplets of blood on the sanguineous floor. His eyes flew open and he ran across the room to her.  
  
"No!" he gasped, moving as quickly as he could.  
  
Xanne saw him begin sprinting, and pushed the razor deeper, dragging it swiftly across her arm. She winced and cried out. The absence of pain was no more. It was agony like she had never known before. Her vision became blurry and she fell to one side, smacking her head on the tile, the world around her fading into an abyss of black.  
  
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[Oooh, cliffhanger.read on. And don't forget to REVIEW.] 


	4. Chapter IV: Truth

[I was in a slightly better mood for this chapter, but I had to follow up on the first one.still a little morbid. Sometimes the most likely hero is also the most unlikely.]  
  
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Ch. IV: Truth  
  
Percy had skidded to a halt on his knees beside the girl, whose arm was now exuding deep red liquid at an alarming rate. Gathering his wits about him, he pulled out his wand and muttered a quick charm while pointing it at her arm. The wound closed, grotesquely resembling the closing of a zipper. It left a scab there on her arm and he flicked his wand, a white bandage flew from the tip and raveled itself around her wrist.  
  
As much as he wished he could just take her to Professor Dumbledore or Madam Pomphrey, this just didn't seem like something that others ought to know. It was awfully personal, so he decided to rid her of humiliation and sat down next to her, conjuring up a red and gold pillow and placing it under head, and a blanket of the same colors that he wrapped around her.  
  
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A half an hour later, she began to stir, and her dark, bloodshot eyes opened. Percy wondered if she was weak from the amount of blood she had lost, but was pleased to see that she sat and looked around at her surroundings.  
  
"No, you're not dead." He looked into her eyes, feeling a mixture of annoyance and pity.  
  
"Well, it's an easy mistake," Xanne looked down at the bandage on her wrist and smirked. "I mean, I'm here on the floor of a bathroom bedecked in Gryffindor upholstery with you for company so naturally, hell would be the rational explanation."  
  
"For your information," Percy snapped quickly, looking over at the girl who was clearly ungrateful. His anger dissolved when he saw that her snarky demeanor had faded and tears leaked out of her eyes. He did the only thing he thought would help; he reached out an arm and pulled her in so she was resting on his chest, his robes stifling her sobs.  
  
His mind was swimming. He thought, not about what he had done, how he had just saved the life of this sixteen year old girl, but about Oliver Wood. Wood had been worried about this very same girl. He had seen past the emblem on the breast of her robes and into her eyes, where she was troubled. Percy himself had dismissed the thought of anything being seriously wrong with the girl, after all, Slytherins were not known for their mysterious nature.  
  
He cast a quick glance at his wristwatch. It was half past one in the morning. Running a hand through his dark red hair, he shifted his weight a bit and realized that the girl had dozed off on his chest. He had but a minute to worry if that was simply the case before the door of the prefects' bathroom opened once more.  
  
The girl who had entered flicked her wand irately and the torches blazed more brightly than the dim flickering they had produced before. Her head snapped in his direction as she noticed she was not alone. Her hazel eyes recognized his face instantly; Penelope Clearwater walked slowly into the bathroom.  
  
"So," she said gravely, fighting back tears. "Is this why you simply could not see me anymore, Percy?"  
  
"Of course not," he said, tugging the sleeve of Xanne's robe down to cover the bandages on her wrist. "I was just.helping a friend through a tough time, that's all."  
  
"A friend?" she eyed the Slytherin sleeping in his arms. "That's news to me, as is how helping her through a tough time requires the blankets off of your bed and a dimly lit, secluded bathroom."  
  
"Would you just trust me, Penny?" his eyelids drooped as he looked up at her.  
  
"What, I'm not Clearwater anymore? And no, I will not trust you. You abandoned me, Percy." She crossed her arms, then spoke very loudly and clearly. "You.You, girl. Wake up!"  
  
Xanne stirred a bit, but snuggled her head more firmly into Percy's chest. Penelope walked briskly over to her and shook her violently. She snapped up and scowled at the Head Girl.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing? Don't touch me!" she shook off the hands of the Ravenclaw and ran her hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes.  
  
"I know you, you're a prefect," Penelope looked down at her robes. "A Slytherin prefect no less. So tell me, Slytherin Prefect, what is your reason for requiring help from the Head Boy at half past one in the morning, alone in the bathroom?"  
  
Percy braced himself. From the conversations he had witnessed between Xanne and other students, at prefects meetings as well as in the corridors, she was not one to cross.  
  
"My name is not 'Slytherin prefect," Xanne said in a blunt tone. "My name is Xanne Malloy. You may address me as 'Malloy.' And I know you as well; you're the Ravenclaw who beat Callie to Head Girl. And for your information, I did not require help from the Head boy, as you put it, he saw that I was in need and obliged most kindly."  
  
"I see," she folded her arms over her chest.  
  
"No, you don't see, obviously." Xanne stood up quickly and began to walk away. Percy stood up also, watching intently to see if the girl was indeed fine. She wasn't, her first step was pointless as she fell backwards. He quickly reached out to catch her and sat her down on the tile floor.  
  
"You're not ready to walk yet," he whispered into her ear. "You've lost too much blood, stay down here for a few moments."  
  
She looked annoyed and stayed sitting where he had guided her. He stood up and confronted the Head Girl.  
  
"Will you stop being a nefarious twit?! It's obvious that since she's not capable of walking, I was telling the truth, she was in need of my help." He stated loudly before murmuring something into her ear. "Penny, the girl tried to kill herself. I merely walked in and bandaged her. Please don't hold this against me."  
  
The Head girl turned, alarmed to the girl sitting on the floor. She kneeled down beside her before speaking slowly.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"I don't want your pity," Xanne spat, looking away.  
  
"And you won't get it, but you will get my concern." She looked at the girl one last time before rising and turning to Percy, guiding him out of earshot and whispering to him. "I think we should tell Dumbledore. Prefects are role models, I don't think it would be wise for her to continue being one."  
  
"Are you daft? Why would we want to make things worse for her?"  
  
"You must admit that to do something so drastic, she is clearly unstable," Penelope's eyes narrowed. "Now don't make me the bad guy here."  
  
"I'm not, but you're clearly unstable now too, do you think it's wise for you to be Head Girl?" He looked into her hazel eyes as they narrowed even further and she opened her mouth to speak. He cut her off. "Exactly, everyone has their problems, it's important that they overcome their problems rather than suffer from them with everything they do. Don't tell Dumbledore, I beg you."  
  
"Why not?" she asked, becoming quite cross.  
  
"Because what happened between you and I is over. We're over, you shouldn't hold this over my head, or over hers for that matter," he motioned to the girl on the floor.  
  
"I really should take points off from Gryffindor and Slytherin for this," she said, seeming defeated. "You both were out of bed."  
  
"As were you," Percy added. She looked up at him and sighed. She moved closer to him, and brought her face close to his, her breath smelling of mints. She moved to press her lips on his, but he moved backwards and took her by the shoulders. "It's over Penelope."  
  
Penelope's eyes darkened and she turned on her heel, walking hastily toward the door. Percy feared she would go straight to Dumbledore or Flitwick, her head of house, but his fears were eased as she turned before reaching the door.  
  
"I won't tell," tears leaked out of her eyes. "I will always love you Percy."  
  
"That's nice to know," he smiled warmly at her, turned and walked over to Xanne. Penelope left; the door slid shut behind her. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Depends what it is," Xanne replied, turning to face him.  
  
"Well, you be the judge," Percy's eyes looked nervous. "Why did you do this?"  
  
"It's a long story," her dark eyes were cloudy, and she reached her unwounded hand up and clutched the claw necklace she wore.  
  
"Don't feel like telling it?" he shifted and wrapped her in the blanket that lay discarded on the floor.  
  
"I spent a good amount of time going through it in my head before hand," she said, looking down at her bandaged wrist.  
  
"I know what you mean," he looked down at the tile.  
  
"Why, something happen to you as well?"  
  
"A lot of things are happening in my life. I'm confused, that's all," his blue eyes locked with her dark brown ones. "I wish there was something I could do."  
  
"You've done a lot already," Xanne looked gratefully back at him.  
  
"All in a day's work," he mused, shivering a bit before moving under the blanket with her. "I still wish I could do more to help you."  
  
"You can," she whispered, taking both hands and pulling his face close to hers before kissing him deeply. He shuddered and pulled away quickly.  
  
"You don't want this," he said, looking alarmed once more.  
  
"I think I'll be the judge of what I do and don't want, thank you," her face darkened and she moved closer to him.  
  
"No, you don't want this, not now."  
  
"Why, you don't want this either?" her face looked conquered in the flickering torchlight. Clearly, she hadn't experienced a rejection of this sort before.  
  
"Oddly, I think I do," he murmured, taking her hand in his. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think that might be due to the fact that Penelope and I have ended our relationship. I'm probably just seeking comfort, which I'm positive you are, and you're hurt so I will not contribute to hurting you worse than you already are."  
  
"Admirable," Xanne said, flatly.  
  
"I try," he smiled lightly. "Lets try and get you back to your dormitory, it's awfully late."  
  
"I'd rather just stay here," she said, leaning on his chest.  
  
"As you wish," he said, and with a flick of his wand, they were in a bed of red and gold pillows and covered by several blankets. He leaned back on a pile of the pillows and awkwardly stroked her back. Of all of the places he could have been, he was happy he was making someone feel comforted. Come to think of it, he realized that she was, in a way, comforting him as well.  
  
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[That ending just makes me happy. No romance what so ever, just comfort. But what about Marcus, what will he have to say?] 


	5. Chapter V: Disappeared

[This chapter was really interesting to write, it's so dark and mysterious. I think so anyway. Marcus is comes into her room looking for her that night.]  
  
  
  
  
  
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Ch. V: Disappeared  
  
The hallway was dark, not lit at all. Why would it be, it was four o'clock in the morning? The portraits on the walls were snoozing in their frames; a few of them were snoring quite loudly. As Marcus passed the doorways he looked in each one, enjoying the peacefulness of the girls dormitories. The first years were clutching teddy bears or stuffed unicorns under their arms as they dreamt dreams of their friends or the little boy that sat next to them in Potions. He thought it was a darling sight, but would never let anyone else know he had felt that way. The fourth years were asleep in their four posters also, probably dreaming about the first kiss they had shared in the Astronomy tower with some quidditch-obsessed boy from their house. The fifth year girls were silent also; probably fresh from primping their hair or buying sleek black robes to make them look older. He came up to the familiar sixth year dorm and walked stealthily inside. The third bed on the left, by the window was Xanne's. He walked nearer to it and drew back the curtains slowly.  
  
Instead of finding his girlfriend sound asleep on her side as she normally was, he found a crisply made bed that had not been slept in. His first thought was not of rage, but of worry. He sat down on the bedspread and breathed in her scent, cinnamon and broomstick polish. He knew it well and sat there for moments, taking it in.  
  
The curtain of one of the beds opened and a small wand-light was pointed at him. A girl's face was visible, clutching a book, what looked like a diary. She saw Marcus and was a bit startled, but she knew why he was here, as he normally came in the night to visit her dorm-mate.  
  
"Xanne isn't here," she whispered as quietly as possible, drawing her dressing gown closely around her shoulders. It was Leanor de Sade, Xanne's roommate that was so taken with the onyx necklace. "She never came back tonight."  
  
"She didn't!" if he was previously worried, it was nothing to what he was feeling now.  
  
"Shhhh!" the girl put her finger up to her lips and hissed at the older boy. "Last I saw her, she was leaving the dorm after dinner."  
  
"Thanks," Marcus said in a gruff whisper before standing up and turning toward the door. Before he left, though, he walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a warm black cloak. It was completely useless to him, being too small, but if he found Xanne, she would probably be dreadfully cold after being around the castle. He left the dorm, casting one last look at the empty green bed he had wrinkled slightly by sitting upon it.  
  
The hallway was just as caliginous as it had been when he first entered the girls' section of the Slytherin dorms. The portraits were still dozing in their frames and the torches still unlit.  
  
Just as barren and dark as the hallways, the common room was abandoned also. The black leather couches were shining in the moonlight that peeked in from the small windows high above. The common room had none of its usual liveliness and devious plotting in it, only the fire, which was nothing but a few orange embers, made little noise. He slipped quietly out of the stone wall that concealed the house and made his way down the dark dungeon corridor, pondering incessantly as he meandered.  
  
If she had left after dinner, she was doing one of three things. He knew her fairly well and her habits gave her away. She was either in the library, studying for something or other, or even just reading up on her dark fiction she favored so much. If not the library, she was out flying on the pitch. It was strictly forbidden for her to be out there at this time of night, but she had never been caught as she raced around the goal posts and stands. She had forlorn this habit this year, though. The dementors of Azkaban were patrolling outside, and no matter how far away from them she was, they simply made her feel weak, or so she said. Another after dinner habit of hers was to go to the prefect's bathroom and swim in the gargantuan pool that was known as a tub.  
  
The first place he would look would be the library. Her studious nature preceded her and to tell the truth, this was where he assumed she would be. The library was quiet and deserted, the air smelling of old, dusty, moldy books. The hundreds of volumes littered the walls, titles of which were visible in the darkness, the golden etched bindings glowed in the darkness. Her usual table, the one closest to the restricted section and out of the view of the overgrown vulture, Madam Pince, was empty.  
  
Now he began to get angry. Didn't she think of anyone beside herself? She knew she would be missed and yet she still decided to leave. He clutched the limp cloak he held in his hand, feeling the soft material compress under his fist. He walked quickly out of the library and out into the corridor.  
  
She was most certainly not out on the quidditch pitch, he knew that for sure. She might have been in the prefect's quarters, but she normally avoided them. Even the other prefects frowned upon the Slytherins and she avoided the ridicule, not that she couldn't handle it of course. He headed for the only other place he thought she would be.the bathroom.  
  
The corridors were almost peaceful that night, but the stomps of his dragon- hide boots broke the silence. The portraits all frowned and shook their fingers at him as he glided through the dark halls. A few suits of armor decided to tell him off, but he shut their visors and muttered furious swears in their helmets. The bathroom was near, he knew it, but he was not sure what the password was. Probably something in Latin, the prefects loved to seem smarter than the other students, so they thought up encouraging passwords in languages people rarely knew. The previous month it had been in Gobbledegook, something about the sun never setting on some bloody day.  
  
There were two statues, across from each other. One was an odd looking man who looked like he was lost, the inscription read 'Boris the Bewildered.' The one across from Boris read 'Armando Dippet, headmaster.' Assuming it was the statue of Dippet, he walked slowly up to it and muttered a few of the Latin phrases Xanne had ever told him.  
  
"Er.Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," he quietly recited the school motto. The statue did not budge. "Tempus Fugit, Cave quid dicis quando et cui.Fluctuat nec Mertigur."  
  
On the last quote, a door behind him creaked open. He looked at the door, chuckling slightly. Boris the Bewildered, who would've thought the prefects would house their bathroom behind him. It seemed as if it was beckoning to him and that's when he knew that she must be in there.  
  
"It is tossed by the waves but does not sink," he muttered under his breath, it was the translation of the password in English. It was not a wise decision on their part to use it. Xanne even had it tattooed on her left forearm, where a Dark Mark would be on a death eater. She thought it was rebellious, he thought it was sexy and often ran his fingers over it at intimate moments.  
  
In his pondering, quite a bit of time had passed and the door closed once again. He scowled, hoping he would actually find her in there and muttered the password one more time before peering into the dark Greek fashioned bathroom.  
  
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	6. Chapter VI: Confrontation

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Ch. VI: Confrontation  
  
He breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of the well- polished floor and the fragrant odor that the bath had left behind. Mingled in it all, he detected the smell of handle polish and cinnamon. The scent he knew all too well. He took his wand out of his pocket and waved it swiftly at the torches perched high on the right hand side of the bathroom. They blazed with orange light that flickered off of the clean tile and glinted off of the silver taps on the edge of the giant sunken in swimming pool.  
  
Set in a corner, almost in shadow, there was a bed of scarlet pillows and a blanket draped over one or two bodies. He tried all of the old tricks, breathing in slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He clenched and unclenched his fists, thought about quidditch to try and clear his head, but nothing had availed. He felt the anger rising in his cheeks, burning like a white-hot curse.  
  
He took slow steps over to the bed of pillows, to make sure his anger was not in vain. There was a tall boy, one that he recognized the face of. They were in the same year; it was Percy Weasley, a Gryffindor and Head boy. Normally his thoughts would have probably yielded some happiness for the boy; it would be quite a feat, in his opinion, for Percy Weasley to 'get some.' But this was no normal occasion, the head resting on the boy's chest was the head that should've been resting on his chest that night. The head, who's black hair shone beautifully in the torchlight, was his.  
  
"Mobilicorpus," he muttered the simple spell that a third year would be capable of. Marcus watched her intently. She was still clothed in her work robes from the previous day. Her eyes were blackened, the makeup had gathered on the top of her cheeks. The girl rose into the air, breaking out of sleep. She looked at the wand-wielding boy in horror, afraid of what would come next. "I see you've had a good night."  
  
"Marcus, I can explain, I can-," she was cut off as she flew toward him roughly. He caught her in his left arm; his wand arm was still raised, preparing to do more. He pointed it dorectly at the Weasley.  
  
"Weasley," he shouted, his voice echoing and ringing out around the bathroom. The redheaded boy shot up from the pillows, startled. He met Flint's dark glare and stood up with a determined look on his face. More so than Flint's glare or even the wand that was pointed at him, Weasley feared for the girl that was clutched in Flint's left arm.  
  
"Flint," he said, staring back at the other boy. He was just as tall as Flint, seeing eye to eye with him. Flint was much broader than he was though; Percy was far from scrawny. His meager muscles were not going to save him now. He vowed to use his superior wit and quick thinking, what a Head boy should be most proud of. Percy was no amateur at magic either, the dueling club was happy to have him there second year, as he knew almost as many curses as the teachers did.  
  
"Weasley, I am not even going to ask what you were doing in here," Flint narrowed his eyes. He couldn't decide which one he was enraged at. The one that was struggling under his strong arm, or the one that was staring with a focused look back at him from a distance of ten feet, not looking frightened.  
  
"We weren't doing anything Marcus, I-," Xanne was able to say before he tightened his grip on the girl's neck with his flexed arm. She began flailing about instantly and Weasley made a move toward him. He fixed his wand on a point between Weasley's eyes and loosened his grip on the girl.  
  
"You!" he spat down at the girl who was struggling. "You betrayed me! I gave you everything and you sold me out to be with this.this."  
  
"I assure you, Flint, she did no such thing," Weasley insisted, a brazen look on his face.  
  
"Do not get me started on you Weasley, I'll get to you next."  
  
"Leave him out of this, he didn't do anything!" Xanne squealed. He grimaced at the sound of her voice and flung her away from himself. She smacked into the nearest wall and crumpled to the ground. He watched her fall, grinning dementedly.  
  
Percy fought the urge to run to the girl and took advantage of the moment. Flint had looked away and lowered his wand, marveling at his superior strength. Percy's hand dove instantly into his robes and pulled out his wand. He leapt forward at Flint, bringing his wand down in a quick swishing motion.  
  
"EXPELLIARMUS!" he roared louder than he had spoken in quite a while. The blast of golden light hit Flint in the chest. His wand flew, not at Percy, but straight past him and a hollow 'thwap' sounded as it struck the wall at that velocity. It fell to the ground, snapped in two. As if that alone wasn't evidence of the power that was in that one simple spell, Marcus Flint, all two hundred pounds of him, was blasted into the air and flew backwards. He rocketed about thirty feet, flipping backward the entire time, and came crashing down in the swimming pool, rolling down into the deeper end. He was alive, his chest rose and fell heavily, but he was knocked out and a thin trickle of blood came from beneath his hairline and trailed down his face, twinkling in the torchlight.  
  
Percy took no time to check on the boy's condition, he ran instead to the crumpled pile of girl on the floor. He summoned one of the pillows to him and he laid her down on it, checking to see if she had hit her head too badly. She looked peaceful as she slept, if you could call it sleep. Her black hair which had fallen loosely in her face was pulled back out of her face, which looked pail and fragile. He reached down and took the necklace she wore in his hand. It was an orb of some sort. It was placid and peaceful, immediately he recognized it. It was an onyx, and he knew what placid and peaceful meant, she was fine and happy, not knowing anything but what went on in her own mind. If she had, in fact, died from the impact, the black stone would have burned white and turned to dust, and fell out of the talon that clutched it.  
  
Shaking her awake, her dark eyes met his azure ones. He smiled weakly at her, and she smiled back, reaching over to take his hand. He took her hand, waving his wand lazily, the pillows and blankets on the floor near them disappeared.  
  
The door of the bathroom creaked open again, it seemed to do that quite often when they were in there, and in walked a person Percy was actually glad to see. Xanne released his hand and he stood up, facing the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He tried to speak to the man, but Dumbledore simply waved his hand at Percy's explanation as he walked nearer. His long white beard swished from side to side until he came about two feet away from the Gryffindor.  
  
He reached a hand out to the Head Boy badge that was pinned on the boy's robes. Percy looked like he was going to be sick. His face turned to one of worry to one of rue. He braced himself for the Headmaster to take the badge, but he did not take it, he merely brushed the dust off of it so it glinted in the light.  
  
"I have never felt so strongly," he began, his blue eyes looking proud and hopeful. "What I mean to say is, I have never been so proud of anyone who has worn this badge. You have genuinely proved yourself Mr. Weasley."  
  
"But sir, you don't know," Percy said hurriedly. Dumbledore merely held out a hand, clearly wishing the boy to stop speaking.  
  
"I know of what you did, Percy," he said, holding a hand toward the door. Penelope Clearwater stood there, an ashamed look on her face. "Miss Clearwater told me everything, not because she wanted to maliciously inform me, but because I met her in the hallway and asked this of her. She told me of how you had helped and I knew what would follow. Mr. Filch had seen Mr. Flint out of bed near the library and confirmed my fears as I headed here. I see you have taken care of that problem."  
  
He looked down into the bottom of the pool and saw the crumpled heap that was the Slytherin quidditch captain. He frowned on this sight and turned to Penelope.  
  
"Miss Clearwater," he said gravely. "Would you kindly go down into the dungeons, where, if I'm not mistaken, you will find Professor Snape working."  
  
"At this hour, Professor?" she asked, eyeing her watch nervously. It was four o'clock.  
  
"Yes, I'm quite sure." He replied warmly. It was clear that visiting Severus Snape under any circumstances was not favorable, even for the Head Girl. She cast one sad look at Percy before the swish of her cloak indicated she was gone.  
  
The Headmaster then turned to the girl, lying on the floor. He bent over her and looked down into her dark eyes. She smiled up at him.  
  
"Hello Professor," she choked out.  
  
"Hello Miss Malloy," he smiled weakly. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Much better thanks to Percy here," she smiled fondly at the Head boy.  
  
"Be that as it may," he began. "I am sure you have been through a lot to have attempted such a horrific thing. I'd just like to tell you, that, if you care to talk to the ghosts some time, they will all tell you the same thing. Death is not like life. There is no color; there is no happiness. Our very own Nearly Headless Nick has told me on several occasions that being undead is like being constantly hungry and knowing that you will never eat again. Moaning Myrtle, who I've been told comes here quite often has even been quite happy about death. Though she enjoys tormenting students, she once again longs to live and grow older as she has never experienced even her first kiss or receiving her apparition license."  
  
"I know that now, Professor," she said, looking into the older man's eyes.  
  
"Do you now?" he said, slightly amused and slightly worried. His face looked tired and quite old in the torchlight.  
  
"Yes," she said with a final tone to her voice. She then turned to the red- haired boy that stood back in the light, watching this scene unfold. "Some things are just worth living for."  
  
Dumbledore looked from Xanne to Percy and back again before straightening himself up once more. He walked towards the door and through it came Professor Severus Snape, wearing an expression that Xanne was happy she would not have to endure. Behind him was Penelope Clearwater, looking rather relieved. Snape walked briskly over to the pool and levitated the body of the boy out of it and bringing him down rather harshly on the tile floor.  
  
"Enervate," the teacher's deep voice snapped irately as he held his wand down on the boy. Flint awoke, massaging his wounded head slightly.  
  
Xanne looked away from this, not wanting to have anything to do with the boy. She looked up and found Percy looking down on her again, but kneeling instead of standing. He looked at her with an expression of utmost emotion.  
  
"Did you mean what you said?" he said, taking her hand into his. His blue eyes looked strong and blissful.  
  
"I did," her brown eyes twinkled with the yellow of the light. "Some things are worth living for. And one of them is having you as a friend."  
  
He smiled and leaned down, hugging her tightly. He took care not to hurt her head. Xanne braced her arms and pulled herself up, standing once more. She looked over to see Snape reprimanding Flint.  
  
"I know you boy, and this is not the fault of that girl! I have good reason to believe that this all just a jealous whim of yours."  
  
"But sir!"  
  
"Silence!" he spat, the boy winced. "I will not take points from Slytherin, as not to increase the hardship for this girl. But I will make sure that you are suspended from quidditch. I happen to know a great candidate for captain."  
  
He spun on his heel and faced Xanne, his face changing instantly. He had looked at the boy with nothing but fury, but changed to caution as he addressed the girl.  
  
"That is, if you want to." He said quietly. She merely shook her head.  
  
"Though if you'll let me, I have someone in mind who would take the job, as well as a spot on the team." The Potions master looked clueless. "Terrence Higgs was kicked off the team when Draco Malfoy joined. He's a prefect and would be worthy of the title, as I recall, Marcus got it over him the first time around."  
  
Snape nodded curtly before turning and looking down on the Slytherin boy once more. His face had again reverted to the anger it had previously conveyed.  
  
"Terrence Higgs will replace you," he snapped. "Maybe now Slytherin will win a few games. And don't think you're getting off that easy either. You will report to me every day after your classes are through. The dungeon hasn't been remodeled in a long time and I think I've just found the manual labor I need to fix it."  
  
Flint still looked dazed from his head injury. Xanne felt a bit sorry for him, it wasn't his fault he was raised to be a jealous prat. But, on the other hand, it was his fault he couldn't change himself. Percy helped her up to her feet.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, Miss Clearwater," Dumbledore turned and addressed them. "I would like you two to escort Miss Malloy to the hospital wing. I daresay Madam Pomphrey should have a look at that head. And Severus," he turned to Snape. "As much as Mr. Flint deserves punishment, he also must be tended to. That is a nasty bump on the head he received."  
  
"Yes Headmaster," Percy, Penelope and Snape all replied in chorus. They left the bathroom promptly and Dumbledore paused to look around.  
  
After retrieving the pillow off of the floor and cleaning up the bit of blood that Marcus Flint had left on the bottom of the pool, he made his way out of the door as well.  
  
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[Don't you wish you knew what Dumbledore was thinking at that exact moment?] 


	7. Chapter VII: The next Morning Quidditch

[Quidditch, quidditch, quidditch.squee!]  
  
  
  
  
  
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Ch. VII: The next Morning (Quidditch)  
  
Percy took his seat at the Gryffindor table the next morning as if nothing had changed. One thing had changed, as next to him sat Xanne Malloy. The pair of them looked extremely tired, and Xanne's expression told that she still wasn't over the events of the previous night's events. Percy was not either. They were not 'together' as some students would put it, but they had developed an understanding. Percy no longer thought ill of Slytherins, and Xanne decided that Gryffindors weren't that bad after all.well, Percy wasn't.  
  
"Percy!" came a shout from across the hall as Oliver Wood ran quickly to the table, slid past his seat and fell to the floor. He picked himself up off of the ground amidst the sniggers of the Gryffindors and Slytherins who had seen him fall. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, Oliver, I'm fine," he said, grinning at the burly boy seated across from him. "I was-."  
  
"I know where you were, Penny told me before she turned last night," he said, not pausing to breathe.  
  
"That was awfully nice of her," Percy said, raising an eyebrow. "Did she stay after she had informed you?"  
  
"Of course not!" Oliver looked as if the thought the idea was preposterous.  
  
"I don't care Oliver," he said, grinning. Xanne couldn't help but chuckle beside him. "Penny and I are through, you're welcome to go out with her if you like."  
  
"No, I wouldn't dream of it," he said, stabbing his fork into a sausage and taking a bite off of the end. He then spoke thickly, through his full mouth. "She's not my type."  
  
"What is your type?" Xanne asked, thoughtfully. She neatly cut up a sausage on her plate and took dainty bites of it.  
  
"Not you," he said in a matter of fact tone. He looked up from his food and grinned widely and in an obviously fake way at her, sausage protruding from his teeth.  
  
"Ugh.I'm beginning to miss the Slytherins." She looked almost wistfully at the students one table over who were cutting their food nicely and carefully making sure nobody was looking before putting it into their mouth.  
  
"No one's forcing you to stay," Oliver said, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice. "After all, you are a Slytherin at the Gryffindor table, hanging on the arm of the Head Boy."  
  
"Well, Percy's my friend and if you can't accept that, I can't help you Wood," she snapped, dark eyes narrowing.  
  
"I was kidding, relax Malloy." He looked over at the pair of them, looking like they'd known each other for years and not one day. Percy looked happier than he had in weeks, like he had gotten something off of his chest. Oliver wanted to get something off of his chest at that moment, but thought better of it and continued eating his breakfast in silence.  
  
He was going to watch the quidditch game that day. It was meant to be Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin, but it had been changed to Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw due to the fact that Slytherin had a new captain and chaser to train. It was rubbish in his opinion, they should play no matter what the condition. After all, Gryffindor had played Hufflepuff in a torrential downpour. He'd probably just sit there taking notes on the quidditch game and point out the obvious weaknesses of both teams like he usually did, no different.  
  
When Percy and Xanne had left to go to a prefect's meeting; he decided that he should go out to the pitch and get a good seat if he was to take notes on the game. He stood and began walking out of the bright hall. The enchanted ceiling was emitting rays of sunlight so bright; it was almost unbearable to sit in the hall. The long tables were filled with students chattering about the quidditch game or their studies or other things. He left the hall, throwing his bag over his shoulder.  
  
Once outside, the real sky was almost unbearably bright in itself. He climbed up into the stands and got a front row seat in the Gryffindor section that was practically deserted save two or three younger Gryffindor boys longing to see a match. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff sections filled slowly and soon, the commentator was on the megaphone once again, announcing the match to the stadium half filled with fans.  
  
Once the two teams were in the air, he brought out a sleek black quill, a small bit of parchment and a jar of red ink. Carefully unscrewing the lid, he set the ink down on the seat next to him. After dipping his quill into the ink, he made a chart, one side for Hufflepuff and the other for Ravenclaw. The second the quaffle was in the air with the players, he began jotting down things like: 'watch Hufflepuff beater, strong arm,' and 'Ravenclaw keeper is weak to shots on the left side.'  
  
The match was probably about half over; they didn't actually have a set time since it all ended at the catching of the snitch. By chance, Oliver's glance strayed from the game and over to the Slytherin stands where two familiar people were arriving and taking seats in the back row of the empty section. Percy Weasley helped Xanne Malloy to a seat and took one himself, right beside her, watching the game intently.  
  
Oliver felt a pang of jealousy. Those two were awfully close for just meeting the day before. And why hadn't they come to sit with him. He began wishing they had never met each other. Before he knew it, he actually detested their presence in the stadium. What was this feeling? He just couldn't be jealous of those two they were just friends. And he had made it perfectly clear that he did not have feelings for the Malloy girl. Why was he feeling this way now if he didn't want her? He assumed that somewhere deep inside him, his friend having a pretty girl and him being alone was a great cause of annoyance, even if they were just friends.  
  
He grimaced at the petty notions and turned back to his parchment before once again focusing on the game before him. Every once in a while jotting down a note, but mostly just watching the game with a pained look on his face.  
  
In the end, Ravenclaw had one, no surprise there. Their seeker, Cho Chang's recovery was indeed miraculous. She was able to catch the snitch after a twenty foot vertical dive before leveling out her Comet two sixty and waving it before the cheering Ravenclaws as she took a victory lap. He jotted down a note to remind Harry about working on his dives before crossing it out.the kid had a Firebolt, what was the use.  
  
*****  
  
Later that day, the Slytherins had a practice with their new captain, Terrence Higgs. His demeanor in front of the team was fluid, he was a natural leader and Xanne wondered why Snape hadn't chosen him in the first place. He took the field with the stolid grace of someone who had been doing this for years.  
  
With the flick of his wand, he had two flying bull's eyes for Bole and Derrick to aim bludgers at. They smirked at each other, clearly loving the challenge and tore after them on their Nimbus 2001s, clutching their beaters' clubs. Soon after, he had a snitch charmed for Malfoy so that it would always remain inside the pitch and once caught, would become quicker and more evasive. Higgs grinned as the blonde boy tore after it; it would probably keep Malfoy occupied for hours. Next he turned to Adrian Pucey and told him to go warm up Bletchley, who had been demoted to 'reserve keeper.' Montague practiced along side Bletchley, and they both seemed to have gotten increasingly better since the absence of their previous captain.  
  
Once everyone else was accounted for, Higgs turned to Xanne, tossing a quaffle to her lightly. She caught it with ease and rested it on her hip, never taking her eyes off of him.  
  
"What's in store for me captain," she smirked playfully at him. He looked at her, as if he was itching to say something. Finally, he opened his mouth and got it out.  
  
"I can't thank you enough Xanne," he breathed.  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to look clueless. He clearly wasn't buying it, and had good reason not to.  
  
"Professor Snape told me what you did last night in the bathroom," he said and she frowned, ashamed, before realizing that was not what he meant. "He told me you gave up his offer to become captain and told him to pick me instead."  
  
His blue eyes twinkled and Xanne was beginning to have the same thoughts that Flint had.why on earth was this boy a Slytherin? His blonde hair fell into his face and he blushed slightly as he looked into her eyes.  
  
"It was nothing, Terrence, really," Xanne insisted, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Now, when are we going to play some quidditch?"  
  
He simply grinned and retrieved his broom from the grass, mounting it and taking off. She closely followed, tossing the quaffle to him. He caught it, though awkwardly, taking both hands off of his broom and jerking out of the smooth flight he had previously had.  
  
Xanne tried not to laugh at the older boy, but it was quite funny. The difficulty of the switch was understandable; one normally didn't switch from the ball the size of a walnut to one the size of a pumpkin. He got it eventually, tossing it with ease, but not quite the skill that Xanne or the other chasers had. The two of them laughed and whipped the quaffle at each other and through the other set of goal posts for a while before Xanne mentioned something to him. He got that excited look about him again and they rocketed over to the other side of the pitch, calling back the beaters, seeker, chaser and keepers.  
  
They were off to practice the Hawkshead attack formation; one of Slytherin's most feared offensive play. The trouble was, the formation was a v-shape, Flint being the apex. He held the quaffle and darted forward, the prongs of the 'v' were the two chasers, Malloy and Pucey, followed by the two beaters, Bole and Derrick on opposite ends. Malloy and Pucey blocked all chasers looking to steal the quaffle from Flint, and Bole and Derrick did their part by deflecting the bludgers and sending them towards the other chasers and seeker if he got too close.  
  
"Now, I know it's going to be different," Higgs said slowly. "But, we'll have to make some modifications to the Hawkshead formation."  
  
"But that's our most dangerous weapon!" said Bole, clearly not wanting to mess with a good thing.  
  
"Precisely," Xanne interjected. "But we do need to make certain accommodations for Terrence. He can't simply step into Flint's spot, Flint had the biggest role of all and Terrence is only a novice chaser. We'll obviously have to make Pucey the apex."  
  
"I was thinking about having you do it, Xanne," Higgs said quickly. "I mean, you have all of the plays memorized and have the most experience playing with Flint."  
  
He turned red and the team began to laugh out loud. He couldn't get the words out that it was clearly misinterpreted before it was an all out uproar of laughter.  
  
"Alright!" he shouted. "Clearly, you took that the wrong way. Xanne will be the apex of the Hawkshead, Pucey will keep the left side and I'll take the right.any questions?"  
  
Before they took off again, Higgs sent Malfoy away with the special snitch and told Bletchley and Montague to act as opposing chasers. The team looked anxious and excited all at the same time.  
  
Xanne took the air first, flying around the goal posts and making the signal, throwing her fist into the air. Like they had with Flint, though the fist in the air was much smaller, the chasers and beaters flew behind her and followed as she took off in the direction of the opposite goal. Pucey grinned as the powerful 'v' practically sliced its way through the air. Higgs couldn't help smiling himself, but focused as Bletchley and Montague began to lunge at Xanne.  
  
It had worked flawlessly. The team couldn't help but grin as they learned the power of their secret weapon. Bletchley and Montague were a bit off color due to the fact that Bole and Derrick hadn't shown any mercy with fending them off of their chaser. Once they had run through the play a few more times, Higgs called them all to the floor of the pitch.  
  
"You have clearly been practicing," he said with a smile. Soon, that smile turned into a manic glint reminiscent of the one Flint had, though lacking the intimidating nature of his. "We should have no problem defeating those Gryffindors, let alone the Puffs and Claws."  
  
The team walked off of the field feeling considerably better about the loss of their captain. They almost forgot to call back Malfoy who was still chasing the snitch.  
  
"Xanne," said a voice behind her as she picked the quaffle up off of the ground. She turned to find Higgs standing there. "You fly beautifully," he said, his blue eyes shining in the sunset.  
  
"You're not so bad yourself captain," Xanne grinned back at him, tossing the red quaffle into his arms. He flinched and caught it, immediately pulling it into his chest. "Watch that, they'll call you on that one. The quaffle must always be on the side of your body. If it's on your chest, you're just asking to be fouled by other players, and it would be way too hard to steal that way."  
  
She reached her hands out and moved the quaffle out to his right side, adjusting his arms so he held it in a cradle pinned to his waist. He watched her intently the whole time, only partly due to the fact that she obviously knew what she was doing.  
  
Someone else was watching the two intently also, from one of the windows of the castle; a scowling Marcus Flint had seen the entire practice. He had marveled at how quickly he was replaced in the Hawkshead and how easily his team, and Xanne, had warmed up to Terrence Higgs.  
  
"Flint!" Snape called from outside the door. "Your bathroom break is over, come out here so we can return to the dungeons."  
  
Flint cast one more glance at Xanne, who was now showing Higgs the proper way to grip his broom when handling the quaffle, and left the dark bathroom. He then headed back to the dungeons with his Professor.  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
[Dun dun dun..] 


	8. Chapter VIII: The Internal Battle

[Sure wish I was there with Percy when this scene happened ; )]  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
Ch. VIII: The internal battle  
  
Percy was happy, for the first time in a long time. He was unattached, and he now had a close friend that was a girl, and that was a first for him. Though he regretted the terms on which he had parted with Penelope, he felt better that they had shared a bit of a friendly moment down in the prefect's bathroom.  
  
He remembered a quote he had read in one of the books from the restricted section. It was by the Marquis de Sade. "In order to know virtue, we must acquaint ourselves with vice." So far, he had been acquainted with vice of Marcus Flint's jealousy, and had experienced virtue first hand when he had rescued Xanne, but something was missing.  
  
Staring into the mirror, he noticed something different about himself. Though he wasn't able to put his finger on exactly what it was, he assumed it was due to the fact that he was sort of a hero now. A tiny glimpse into the life of Harry Potter, or so he thought he had received. Percy picked up his comb off of the sink in the prefect's bathroom, looking over to the corner where so much had gone on the night before. He then ran it through his wet hair after crisply parting it and looked at himself once more, this time turning to see the full length mirror.  
  
He stood there; his straight red hair was falling down over his ears, looking darker than ever now that it was wet. He grinned, liking the way he looked when he smiled. His nose didn't look as long. He had nice teeth, straight and white from all of the brushing and flossing he did every morning. His dark eyebrows made his pale blue eyes seem even more piercing.  
  
His chest was pale and freckly, though he didn't mind it much. He wasn't thin, he actually had abdominal muscles, and that was an accomplishment. Still, he wasn't a big guy. It was even more prevalent now that he was clad only in a scarlet Gryffindor towel that was swathed about his waist. It hung there trimmed in gold, reaching down past his knees. His mother had made it for him. Out of the bottom poked his calves, muscular, but not overdoing it. His feet were a bit large, but he was tall, they were large for a reason.  
  
Percy took off the scarlet towel and surveyed every aspect of him in the mirror. He saw nothing wrong with himself. If nothing was out of the ordinary, why did he feel so odd lately? He had nothing to be ashamed of. Actually, he smirked while looking himself up and down again; he had a bit to brag about.  
  
*****  
  
Penelope left the library at an early hour.well; it was early for her to leave the library. The corridors were dark and deserted. The portraits had left their frames and were gibbering loudly in the frames of the others. She was about to tell them to keep it down when she stumbled upon a rather interesting conversation.  
  
"So it's to be a bit before Christmas, is it not?" asked a voice with a deep voice within a large frame.  
  
"Yes, and it's to be only the oldest students as well," said a woman with a high pitched, rather squeaky voice.  
  
"But they may invite a younger student if they wish," said another woman, who sounded oddly like Professor McGonagall.  
  
"What say you, Salazar?" the deep man's voice was heard again.  
  
"I shall not be bothered with such petty chatter," said a shrewd and cold voice. Penelope walked to the frame and gazed in. Three of the voices were talking excitedly, their backs to her. All you saw of the fourth was his back that peeked slightly into the frame. They were the four founders of Hogwarts. They seemed to be talking about a party of some sort.  
  
"Excuse me," Penelope interrupted. The inhabitants jumped and turned to face her. Godric Gryffindor stood taller than the others did with his hands on his hips. Helga Hufflepuff narrowed her eyes and folded her arms over her ample bosom. Rowena Ravelclaw gave Penelope a look of admiration. Slytherin did not enter the frame. "Excuse me, but I was wondering what you were discussing. Is it some sort of party you speak of?"  
  
"I should hardly think we would tell you, girl," Hufflepuff snorted. "It's to be a surprise for the seventh years.  
  
"But, I am a seventh year," she said hopefully, eyes brightening. Hufflepuff's face did not change, and Penelope began to get cross. "I'll have you know that I'm the Head girl and I will know eventually."  
  
"In that case.no."  
  
"Helga!" Ravenclaw interjected. "She's the head girl, there's no harm in telling her. And she is in my house, you know."  
  
"Be that as it may," said Gryffindor in his guttural drone. "I don't think she is meant to know. But.given the circumstances, I guess there's no use in denying it from her. There is to be a party, girl. A Christmas party, but only seventh years are invited."  
  
"When is it?" Penelope smirked, obviously excited, and who wouldn't be, Hogwarts parties were always the best.  
  
"It's to be the Saturday before Christmas," Hufflepuff said, warming up a little.  
  
"Thank you, but I really must be going," Penelope turned excitedly and walked quickly back towards the Ravenclaw common room.  
  
"You're welcome dear," Ravenclaw called after her. "Do make me proud! Honestly, a Ravenclaw Head girl, I always thought they made excellent role models."  
  
*****  
  
Oliver was a bit self-conscious as he tried on the new dress robes his mother had sent him. They were awfully small and he had always favored clothes that hung off of him a bit. They were a deep burgundy material and were cuffed over at the sleeves and rose around his neck. They shone deeply in the candlelight of his room, very handsome robes, even he had to admit.  
  
If he had wanted clothing to show his figure like they did, he would have asked. They were very formfitting. The material stretched over his broad chest but was a bit looser around the back. It was tighter around the waist and fit about as closely as a belt before it flowed out around his legs and became loose the way he liked it.  
  
She hadn't told him what the robes were for though. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother knew something that he didn't.  
  
Once he had abandoned the robes a pair of comfortable pajama pants, he lay down on his bed with his hands behind his head. His pajama pants fit loosely around his legs, just the way he liked it. He smiled as he bent one knee and brought the other ankle atop it, gazing at the quaffles that soared around his legs. If only things were as simple as they had been when he had first gotten these pajamas.  
  
Now, he was questioning everything that went on around him. He was no longer caring about anything except quidditch. Anything, that is, except his friend's relationship with the Slytherin prefect. The girl was nothing special, just a girl. And yet he felt so jealous when Percy was around her. Maybe he had been ignoring all of those things his mother had told him about.homophones or hormones or homonyms, he remembered his mother saying something about them making people feel different. He was most certainly feeling different right about then.  
  
Oliver considered waiting for Percy to come back to the dorms and asking him about it, Percy knew just about everything. He thought better of it and pulled out his Charms text along with a quill, some ink and parchment and began his essay that was due the next morning.  
  
*****  
  
Marcus stumbled back into the common room, rubbing his sore muscles. His hands now smelled of strong cleaning polish and his black robes were ruined, they were now stained beyond help.  
  
He abandoned them; throwing them into the fireplace and watching as the blaze caught on the material and made a loud whooshing sound. The fumes were potent, though most of them got sucked up the flue.  
  
He turned and made his way to the girl's dorm hallway to go visit Xanne before realizing that he would never do that again. Instead, he sat down roughly on the leather couch that sat in the middle of the common room and thought long and hard about the events of the past week.  
  
He was now single again; he could have any girl that he pleased. There was no girl in the castle that was out of his reach, except one. He had a feeling that it was that one that he desired most of all.  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
[Once again.Dun dun dun.] 


	9. Chapter IX: The Quidditch Match

[The match.squee!]  
  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
  
Ch. IX: The Quidditch Match  
  
Waking up early the morning of her second quidditch match of the year, Xanne felt calm and collected. She had nothing to worry about. There were no painful repercussions awaiting her if she failed, except the disappointment of loss, and she knew she wouldn't be feeling that. They were to finally play Hufflepuff. If they one the Hufflepuff game, they were one win away from the Quidditch final. She knew they would play Gryffindor then and there, and she looked forward to making up for the game they had lost to Gryffindor already. And after the game, she would go back to her dormitory and rest while the seventh years had their Christmas party. She had been informed only because she was a prefect, and she hoped that they all had a good time.  
  
She stood in her mirror as she dressed. It was always sort of a head rush of pride when she put on her uniform. She loved everything about quidditch, and that's what made it so great. She loved the way that everything moved so fast and was controlled to the point where you never knew what was coming next. She loved the smell of a freshly polished broom as you carried it out through the underbelly of the stadium before breaking out and seeing everyone's faces cheering you on. But most of all, she loved the win. She could almost hear the Slytherins cheering at that very moment.  
  
She pulled her green sweater with the silver stripe over her head; pulling her onyx necklace out and letting it fall onto the soft material. She pulled on her crisp white pants that were creased down the front. Next, she put on her dragon-hide boots, lacing them up carefully before strapping on her brown leather shin guards. The leather smelled almost as good as new, almost as nice as they had smelled when she played her first game. Soon, her arm-guards were strapped on and she pulled the leather gloves over her hands, they fit her with no room to spare. She flexed her fist a few times and rubbed her palms together with anticipation.  
  
Then her eyes fell on the onyx necklace. Marcus had given it to her and she felt odd wearing it. Dismissing thoughts of him, she insisted to herself that the onyx had been personalized and it was simply hers.  
  
Xanne picked up her favorite part of the uniform, the green and silver cloak, and pulled it over her head. It fit loosely around her; the wide hood was draped over her back. She tied it shut with the leather string that bound it before taking out elastic and pulling her hair back from her face. She looked over her in the mirror once more, grinning. The silver from the inside of the cloak peaked out and shone in the light of the dormitory. She picked up her broom from where it lay on her bed, pausing only to close the jar of polish and throw the rag she used back in her servicing kit. She was off to do what she did best.  
  
*****  
  
Terrence saw her coming down the hall, dressed impeccably in her green robes, clutching her shining Nimbus 2001 in her hand. She was grinning, grinning before she even saw him; it was the face of someone who loved quidditch so much it hurt.  
  
"Good morning, star chaser," he said cheerfully.  
  
"Good morning, captain," she said with his same chipper tone. Xanne looked down at his uniform, almost as perfect as hers, but minus the ironed trousers. She smiled at how similar the two were.  
  
"Ready for the big game?" Higgs asked, feeling the excitement surging through his veins. It felt great to be playing quidditch again. After Flint had cut him for Malfoy, he assumed he would never touch a broomstick again, but at the moment, he was walking on air.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be," she said, leaning on her broom. "You heading down to the pitch too? I know I was going to skip breakfast and take a few laps with the practice quaffle."  
  
"You know, that's a good idea. I think I will actually," he grinned. She turned to walk away, assuming he was following and he called out to her. "Um.Xanne?"  
  
"What?" She turned back to face him.  
  
"I was wondering," Higgs began, brushing the fair hair behind his ear and hoping he wasn't blushing too badly. She looked curiously up into his blue eyes. "Would you like to go to the Christmas Party with me?"  
  
"Er," truthfully, she hadn't given a thought about the Christmas party other than regards to the seventh years. Actually, it didn't seem like a bad idea, and since Marcus probably wouldn't be allowed to go, it was even more appealing. And going with Terrence, it wasn't really a date, she would get to see her seventh year friends like Callie and Percy and spend some time with them. "Sure Terrence, I'd love to go with you."  
  
He sighed with relief and followed her as she turned to leave the common room. Halfway down the corridor, he blushed and asked her to wait for him, he had forgotten his broomstick in the common room. Once he had retrieved it, they walked through the halls and out onto the pitch, disturbing the dewy grass.  
  
Once they were in the air, Higgs tried out the new grip she had taught him the previous day and found it much easier to steer with the quaffle. The Nimbus' were the best brooms in the school aside from the Firebolt; they were going to blow away the competition.  
  
"I really hope we'll win," Xanne grunted out the last word as she hurled the quaffle through the center goal.  
  
"Oh, we will win!" said Higgs forcefully, as he retrieved the quaffle and whipped it back to her. His eyes were determined and their benign blue was now squinted and looked darker than before. Xanne caught it in her hand and cradled it to her side, grinning; he surely was a Slytherin.  
  
*****  
  
Oliver marched up into the stands and went for the front row when he recognized a familiar face. Percy was sitting front row center. He smiled and sat next to his friend before pulling out his quill, some ink and a piece of parchment.  
  
"Doing homework at a quidditch match?" Percy mused. "I didn't think you had it in you."  
  
"I don't, unless you call strategizing 'homework.'"  
  
"I see," Percy tightened his cloak around himself, it had gotten quite chilly. The temperature was rapidly dropping. He had been getting to like the warm weather, though it was December.  
  
"Cold?" Oliver looked over at the shivering boy.  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
"Sure?" Oliver pulled out a red and gold Gryffindor scarf out of his bag and held it out to his friend. Percy took it gratefully and wrapped it tightly around his neck.  
  
"This weather's very odd, don't you think?"  
  
"Shh!" Oliver ordered. "The match is about to start."  
  
*****  
  
Higgs clutched his broom in his right hand, feeling the energy beneath his skin as he led the team through the passageway beneath the stands. He had walked this path many times, but never had he been in the lead. He was followed closely by Xanne who was followed by Pucey, Bole, Derrick, Malfoy and Bletchley. Montague had agreed to sit this one out due to the fact that Bletchley hadn't played a game in about a year. Since it was Hufflepuff, Higgs rationalized that it would probably be the safest game to allow him to play in. They stopped before the Slytherin banner that lead out into the open pitch and waited patiently.  
  
"Good luck, team," Higgs said loudly. The other members muttered amongst themselves. With Marcus, it was always an unspoken rule that nobody spoke while waiting to go out onto the pitch.  
  
Then, they heard the announcer call out Hufflepuff's name. The stands erupted in cheers and the Slytherin team awaited their name to be called as well.  
  
"Slytherin!" was heard from the magical megaphone outside of the banner. It quickly rolled up and Xanne mounted her broom, Higgs closely followed and they led the team out into the open skies.  
  
"I give you: Malloy, Pucey, Bole, Derrick, Bletchley, Malfoy aaaand Higgs!"  
  
Xanne flew around the entire pitch; slowing up and doing loops and barrel rolls when she reached the Slytherin stands, earning admirable whoops and cheers. Higgs flew around, feeling kind of stupid as he waved to the Slytherins.  
  
The crowd was filled with an aroma of roasted chestnuts, which almost every pair of hands was holding. They were bundled in their warmest robes, scarves and gloves. Each deep breath out of every mouth was a puff of steam.  
  
"Lets here it for our new captain," a voice cried. He turned to see Xanne egging the crowd on. They looked at him and cheered louder than ever; he couldn't help but grin. The team wasn't cold like the spectators. Higgs assumed it was due to the adrenaline that pumped through their veins as they prepared for the match to begin.  
  
She flew over to the Gryffindor stands and waved to Percy who waved back at her grinning. She was such a show off. Wood snorted next to him and Percy elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
After a few moments, they took their places in the air. The Slytherins formed a semi-circle across from the Hufflepuffs. Their Yellow uniforms glinted in the sunlight as they looked innocently over at the Slytherins. Xanne looked over at Higgs and they put on their game faces along with the rest of the green-clad players. The Hufflepuffs looked alarmed at their insane grins.  
  
Madam Hooch made her way out into the center of the pitch, carrying her own broom. She cast a look up at the teams, seeming a bit relieved for some reason or another. It could have been the absence of Marcus Flint on the Slytherin side. She then yelled something about a nice, clean game before she kicked open the trunk. Out zoomed the bludgers and the snitch. Higgs saw Malfoy's hand twitch as it came near him. Once the snitch had vanished, Malfoy flashed a demented grin across the sky to the Hufflepuff seeker Cedric Diggory.  
  
Hooch took the red quaffle in her arms, bent her knees and sent it sailing straight up into the air. Pucey sped forward and the Hufflepuffs scattered, leaving room for Xanne to grab the quaffle. She tossed it up and punched it over to Higgs, who quickly changed the grip on his broom handle and cradled the quaffle in his arms, streaking off toward the goal.  
  
Soon, the Hufflepuff beaters were upon him and he quickly passed the quaffle to Pucey. Xanne circled behind the goals and Pucey followed. When she was in the front and he was behind the posts, he hurled the quaffle at her and she spun, doing a 360, smacking the quaffle with her broom tail. It sailed past the outstretched arms of the Hufflepuff keeper, Orik Whitby, and through the right goal.  
  
"Ten points to Slytherin," the commentator blasted over the crowd.  
  
Whitby recovered the quaffle, scowling, and sent it soaring to one of the Hufflepuff chasers, Mina Everett. She caught it with ease and ducked a bludger hit her way by Derrick. She was getting awfully close to the goal and the Slytherin chasers were gaining on her.  
  
Out of nowhere, Draco Malfoy dove in front of her; the quaffle flew out of her hands and landed right in Higgs' outstretched arms. Xanne looked quickly down at Malfoy, as did the Hufflepuffs, assuming he had seen the snitch. He was grinning, obviously he'd planned that. Higgs passed it over to her and she ducked a Bludger hit by the Hufflepuff beater McGill before passing to Pucey. Two of the Hufflepuff chasers had chosen to mark her, blocking her from any passes. Pucey passed to Higgs who looked for Xanne, but came up empty when she waved him on encouraging him. He flew to the right, and when Whitby followed him, he flung it as hard as he could towards the left goal and cried out in bliss when it went straight through.  
  
"Slytherin: twenty, Hufflepuff: zero," the commentator sounded.  
  
Higgs looked over his shoulder to see Malfoy and Diggory neck and neck about fifty feet from the ground. Diggory had a very determined look on his face and Malfoy wore a smirk. Diggory was heavier and that was an advantage, but Malfoy was incredibly light on his faster broom and he pulled ahead of the older boy. He pulled out of the dive holding the snitch high above his head. Fifteen minutes into the game and it was over, mercifully, the crowds cheered. It probably wasn't for the Slytherins, but for the comfort they would receive when they went back into the castle after this cold outing.  
  
Xanne raced towards him and hugged him so tightly; his sleek blond hair fell into his face. Higgs flew in and she hugged him as well. The rest of the team came in, but recoiled at the notion of a hug from their only female teammate. She ruffled their hair instead before motioning to Higgs that he should lead them in a victory lap. The green clad team flew as fast as they could around the pitch, whooping and yelling, barely noticing the yellow players beneath them leaving in a very solemn line.  
  
Xanne broke from the line and landed in the Gryffindor space, running over to Percy and hugging him. He smelled of soap and pumpkin juice.  
  
"That was brilliant!" he said, grinning. Behind him, Wood scowled.  
  
"Something the matter Oliver?" Xanne said, worried.  
  
"Stomachache." He answered her simply. His brow was furrowed and it didn't take a genius to know that a stomachache was not what ailed him. She shrugged her shoulders before hugging Percy again and mounting her broomstick.  
  
"I'll see you two tonight!"  
  
"But you're not allowed," Oliver said loudly. "You're a sixth year, it's seventh years only."  
  
"I have my ways," with that, she blew Wood a kiss and took off. He folded his arms and glared at the green player's retreating back.  
  
"There's something about that girl," Wood grumbled before picking up his things. So far, all of the notes had been to watch out for everything Slytherin did. Their keeper was the only one who hadn't gotten any action the whole game; he just hovered there twiddling his thumbs.  
  
"What, you fancy her?" he frowned at the other boy.  
  
"Of course not," Wood insisted. "I already told you and her, she is not my type!"  
  
"Well, enlighten me, Oliver. What exactly is your type? You keep saying the same old thing over and over again, I'd really like to know."  
  
"It's none of your business Percy Weasley," he said, turning up his nose. The Head boy didn't look like he was going to leave without an answer. "Go.Run along Red."  
  
Percy grimaced at the painful childhood nickname and grabbed the front of his friend's robes playfully. He brought his face up to the larger boy's and spoke very dangerously.  
  
"Don't you ever call me Red, do you hear me Ollie?" Oliver froze; the other boy was so close to him, he could feel Percy's breath on his face. Percy released his robes and began to walk away, chuckling. "You look scared out of your wits. You're such a girl sometimes, Wood."  
  
*****  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"I swear, If you ask me one more time about the bloody party, I'll make you polish the desks until you're blue in the face," Severus Snape was about to crack, he could just feel it.  
  
"But Sir!"  
  
"Fine.just leave me in peace! You can go to the bloody Christmas party, Flint! Just don't let me hear that there was any trouble."  
  
"Of course not, sir," Marcus smirked slightly as he walked out of the dungeon and towards his common room. There would be no trouble, he only wished to attend the party like any other well behaved seventh year, was that too much to ask?  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
[And yet again.Dun dun dun. Too much Xanne? Don't worry at least she's not a Mary-Sue. She's just like anyone would be if they found out that there would be a sport that involved flying and stuff like that. What's wrong with Oliver.and Percy, what's wrong with him too?] 


	10. Chapter X: Preparations

Ch. X: Preparations  
  
Terrence dressed in complete and utter silence in the seventh year dorm. He pulled the velvety dress robes up around his shoulders and surveyed himself in the mirror before pulling out a small black vial of cologne. He put a small dash on his collar and looked over himself once more. The indigo robes fit him nicely, and they brought out his bright blue eyes. He only hoped that she would notice, after all, the robes were the most expensive ones in the store. He then began to have his doubts. They were only the most expensive in Gladrags, which was the only place in Hogsmeade. He couldn't help but wonder if she would be more impressed if he had imported them from some foreign country like France or Italy. He nervously ran a comb through his wispy flaxen hair. After looking at the style in the mirror, he tousled it up a bit, hoping she would find it a bit more strict and rigid as he normally was. Although he was worried, this would have to do.  
  
Behind him, Marcus Flint was digging through his chest of drawers, looking for something. He finally straightened up, holding a pair of black silken dress robes. He grinned and shrugged off the work-worn robes he had previously donned. He roughly slid the silken robes over his head and pulled his own cologne out of his chest of drawers before throwing a few shakes of it onto his neck and some on the sleeves of his robes. He then flattened the hair on his head down as far as it would go; though it was quite limp already.  
  
"You're al-," Terrence stopped himself before saying 'allowed to go to the party.' That would have aggravated the older boy. "I mean, you're going to the party as well, Marcus?"  
  
"Of course," he said in an almost charming voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."  
  
"Yes, me neither."  
  
"So you're awfully dressed up," he said, eyeing the expensive robes and meeting the younger boy's eyes. "I'm assuming you have a date, then? Well, who is it?"  
  
"Oh, just some girl," he said, nervously adjusting the collar of his robes as the older boy looked down on him with his dark eyes.  
  
"Just some girl, huh," Marcus smirked at the prefect. "Doesn't seem like 'just some girl' to me."  
  
*****  
  
"Oh bloody hell Oliver, would you hurry up!" Percy called up the stairs to his friend who was a bit nervous. Percy waited at the bottom of the stairs in his grayish silver robes. The robes were made of an extremely soft material and he had found them while searching some secondhand shops in Diagon Alley. The quidditch team waited with Percy in the common room, clearly wanting to see if their obsessed captain could dress up well.  
  
Angelina Johnson and Fred Weasley were sitting awfully close to one another on the love seat while Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet smirked from the other side of the room. George Weasley and Harry Potter were sitting across from one another at the table, playing a game of exploding snap in with the sleeves of their clothes pulled up. They stared back at one another with determined faces as they dueled on and on.  
  
Finally, they heard a door slam in the corridor above them and they all watched the stairs intently. For a few seconds, they waited with nothing. It seemed Oliver had either not left his room or was standing atop the stairs, delaying his entrance. Finally, they saw a foot and the bottom of deep red robes.  
  
Oliver descended the stairs amidst the eyes of his teammates and best friend more gracefully than he ever had. His awkwardness on the ground was clearly noticeable to everyone normally, compared to his grace in the sky, but now it was different. Soon, his head was visible and everyone seemed taken aback at how the keeper radiated a sort of impression that they were not used to.  
  
His thick brown hair was parted neatly and pushed to one side, as opposed to his normal windswept look from flying. The robes rode high on his neck and made him look almost aristocratic, accentuating his defined jaw and strong chin. His eyebrows were no longer furrowed with the determination of a quidditch match, but docile, giving his face a handsome glow of innocence. His amber colored eyes seemed a bit nervous, but with a room full of people with all eyes on you, who wouldn't be.  
  
The robes fit him well, Percy thought. Oliver didn't buy them, that was a given. He favored baggy things that allowed free movement, quidditch clothes, basically. The burgundy material was soft looking, almost like a fleece. Percy found himself wanting to reach out and touch it, but abandoning the thought as the boy coming down the stairs stopped and spoke.  
  
"You all waiting for me?" he said, a devilish grin on his face. "You shouldn't have."  
  
"Well what can we say, we were wondering if there really was more to you than just quidditch," Katie said, her arms folded. The rest of the team nodded intently.  
  
"I know this is sort of last minute," Oliver faltered. "But I am allowed to bring a younger student to the party, would any of you like to go?"  
  
At those words, the three girls began blushing like mad and began gibbering between themselves. Angelina had left her spot near George and stood by the girls. They turned to face Oliver, as if presenting him with three options.  
  
"Er.I can't choose, that wouldn't be fair. Can't you three just draw straws or something?" He actually seemed like he couldn't care less, but didn't want to be seen entering the party without a date. "Well, go on! We've got about a half an hour to get there."  
  
The three faced each other, obviously debating what to do. If truth were told, each one of them had harbored a crush on their quidditch captain for quite some time now. After five minutes had passed, Oliver spoke.  
  
"Alright, whose name comes first in the alphabet?"  
  
"First or last?" asked Alicia hopefully.  
  
"Last."  
  
"Me," Katie squealed, running up to her dorm. Oliver sighed and ignored the scowls he had earned from the other two girls. They turned and stalked up to the dormitory behind their friend and Oliver took a seat on one of the red couches.  
  
"Didn't even think of asking anyone until now," he muttered, running his hand through his neatly parted hair and mussing it up again.  
  
"Neither did I," Percy said, coming to sit down beside him. They both sat there, glancing back at each other casually.  
  
"Bet you're taking that Malloy girl, huh," Oliver asked, looking displeased once more.  
  
"Actually, I'm flying solo tonight," Percy smiled and seemed quite lighthearted about the whole thing.  
  
"You should've told me!" Oliver exclaimed. "Now you've made me seem like a great prat, showing up with a date while my friend doesn't have one. We could've showed up together, two single guys looking great and having a great time."  
  
"No, don't even think that," Percy shook his head, attempting to dismiss any thoughts of guilt from the other boy's mind.  
  
Oliver scowled and looked gloomily down at his hands that were clasped rather tightly in his lap. Thoughts were running rampant through his mind. He was not jealous of Percy and the other girl at this very moment, but he also felt quite guilty for having a date while his friend had none.  
  
In a matter of minutes, Katie Bell had rushed down the stairs and pulled her quidditch captain up and out of his seat, linking her arm through his and pushed him out the door. Percy followed closely behind, laughing at the girl's behavior. She clearly had lucked out when it came to this party. Arriving on the arm of a quidditch star, she'd probably be the envy of most of the girls at the party.  
  
The hallways were lit with floating candles instead of torches and they produced a dim sort of romantic glow in the deserted corridors. The portraits had all abandoned their frames and they looked quite ridiculous hanging blankly on the walls. The suits of armor were shining more than the Head Boy had seen them in his seven years at Hogwarts. Their shoes made dull thuds on the stone floor as they made their way down to the Great Hall.  
  
The entrance was extravagantly decorated with purple and silver sashes. Standing in front of the door were Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, greeting the students (if what Snape was doing could be considered greeting).  
  
Percy let Oliver and Katie get ahead of him. He assumed the girl wanted to make a big entrance while clutching Wood's arm. He had assumed correctly. McGonagall grinned widely at the appearance of the three Gryffindors and moved out of the way to let Bell and Wood pass.  
  
*****  
  
"We're going to be late if you don't hurry up!" Xanne said pointedly to her dorm mate. Leanor de Sade had been in front of the mirror for the past few minutes, doing nothing but look closely at her hair and make up. Xanne didn't know who her date was, but it was very last minute and Leanor seemed to be ecstatic.  
  
"Alright," she said, adjusting her hair one more time. She wore robes of the palest blue. They shimmered lightly on her figure and accentuated every curve the girl had. Xanne thought they were a bit too revealing, but it wasn't her place to say anything. At least she knew for sure there was to be another Slytherin sixth year at the party.  
  
Leanor walked into the hallway and made her way to the common room. Xanne hung back, pausing to look herself over in the full-length mirror. She couldn't help but notice a rather of doomed feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was it too soon to go out amongst the students? Could she handle it all?  
  
On her left wrist, she wore a black wristband, concealing the scar from view. Though she could not see it, she was aware of it at all times. It had become a part of her, a trophy of a sort, without the glory and honor. Her robes were deep green with black trim around the sleeves, the neck, and the feet. They were a bit low cut, but were nothing compared to Leanor's robes. Her onyx necklace shimmered in the light of the room; her glasses lay forgotten on her nightstand. She had charmed her eyes for the night and could see perfectly without them. Her dark eyes looked a bit troubled, but she adjusted that look to one mystique as she put dark makeup on her eyelids. Once her black hair was brushed straight, and her lips were the perfect shade of pink, she made her way out of the dormitory also.  
  
*****  
  
Terrence waited apprehensively in the common room, standing near the corridor that led to the girls' rooms, trying not to seem to eager. A girl came out of the sixth year dorm and started toward him, his heart leapt up into his throat. A moment later, he noticed the girl's face and realized that it wasn't Xanne. After turning around and pretending he wasn't waiting apprehensively, he saw the girl who had walked past him meet up with none other than Marcus Flint. She looked admiringly into his dark eyes but he was looking away, as if he had more important things on his mind that night.  
  
Higgs turned to look down the corridor and through the flickering candlelight; he could make out a dark shape moving towards him. He knew instantly that it was she. The dark green robes were shining, the velvet material almost illuminated from the other end of the corridor. Once she could see him, her eyes and face smiled warmly. She strode fluidly up to him and looked into his shining blue eyes.  
  
"Good evening."  
  
"Er," he stammered. "Good evening."  
  
Her dark eyes were without the usual shield of her glasses and seemed almost hooded for some reason. The paleness of her face was somewhat angelic as he looked over it, and with her dark hair framing it, it seemed even more lustrous. He sort of lost track of time, probably lost in the moment, and delicately bent down his head, golden hair falling in his face. He gently brought his lips to hers and kissed her in an almost fluttery way.  
  
Xanne shuddered and pulled back after a moment, a look of shock on her face. Her graceful conduct had diminished and now her hands were shaking. She looked calculatingly into his face, as if waiting for an explanation.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Higgs apologised profusely. "I just assumed. I rushed, I'm sorry. I.I."  
  
"It's not you," she said, sounding gloomy. "It's my fault. I had a bit of a hard time recently and.it's just my fault."  
  
Though she attempted to ease the awkward moment, the older boy simply turned his blushing face towards the ground. He was clearly ashamed and somewhat astounded at his incredibly bad judgement. Xanne then did something that shocked him even more.  
  
She took his head in both of her hands and brought his face up to hers. She smiled in a genuine manner and brought her lips, not to his lips, but to his forehead. Higgs was surprised to feel that the gentle kiss on his forehead made him tremble, much like she had when he had kissed her. After holding him there like that, ignoring the half-full common room, she finally took her hands away and gazed deeply into his eyes. In that instant he realized the reason he had held his crush on this girl out for so long. It was not her looks, or the little talent she had on the quidditch pitch. It was not her ambition or her strives for excellence that he knew most prefects had. It all lie in her eyes, that were slightly clouded and troubled, and her soul, that was truly good, even with the cunning Slytherin exterior. And at that very moment, that was all he could see.  
  
*****  
  
Flint watched them leave the common room in silence. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to ward off the anger. He took breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, rhythmically for a few moments. De Sade was leaning on his shoulder adoringly; he brushed her off and made his way to the door himself.  
  
Leanor ran to catch up with him and roughly yanked his arm into hers. The dungeons were just as sordid as they normally smelled, mildew and an old musty odor that was probably from hundreds of years of students and classes wafted through with the crisp breeze. Rather than the torches and candles that normally lined the corridors on the other floors, the dungeons had one only at the places where the corridors met. The halls were dark and cold. Each and every student that passed through the dungeon would feel dullness in their bones that was spurned by all, except maybe the Slytherins. The stone down there was a darker color than that of the other corridors and seemed to glisten, as if it was eternally damp. It was a generally mirthless place if you weren't accustomed to it. Marcus had learned to love it.  
  
He pulled back the sleeve of his robes and eyed his wristwatch. The party was to start in five minutes. He walked up the giant staircase, Leanor still clinging to him, and sneered at the cheerful Christmas music that was drifting down to greet them. Once they reached the landing of the staircase, two teachers stood there to welcome them.  
  
"Good evening Miss de Sade," said a deep, silky voice by the door. When Leanor saw who had spoken and she blushed crimson, obviously quite smitten with the owner, who in turn bowed charmingly back at her.  
  
"Why, hello Professor," she smiled and dropped Flint's arm to curtsy politely.  
  
"I hope you enjoy your evening," Snape said, ushering them inside. He did not speak to Flint, only casting a look his way that simply said 'I will be watching you.'  
  
*****  
  
Penelope Clearwater stood in front of her own mirror, trying to ignore the constant feeling of sadness. Her eyes began to mist over.  
  
She had shocked herself when she was talking to a sixth year boy in the hallway. His name was Roger Davies and he was cute for a sixth year boy, she stopped and told herself that he was quite cute for any boy. After all, he was a prefect, and was next in line for quidditch captain.  
  
He had initiated a conversation with her over the prospect of the password to the prefects' bathroom that should be changed at the start of every month. Eventually, it was clear that this was not all he had in mind. He looked intently into her face and asked her if she would take him to the Christmas party as her date and hopefully more than just a date eventually.  
  
She smirked at him; it took a certain amount of courage to ask out the Head girl, but then politely declined. She explained that she already had a boyfriend, who was the Head boy, and that she thought everyone knew that. He looked confused, and asked her if all of those break-up rumors were true. He was sure that most of the Ravenclaw common room wouldn't lie like that. Penelope, on the other hand, didn't take it too well.  
  
It hit her like a slap in the face. She broke down into tears and the boy looked nervous, the Head girl did not simply start sobbing on your shoulder over just anything. He apologized and awkwardly patted her head.  
  
She cringed at the memory, disappointed in herself. Not only had she completely forgotten about her and Percy's breakup, she had embarrassed herself in front of one of the prefects that she was supposed to be leading. But she wouldn't focus on that now, she had calmed down and a day later politely asked the Davies boy to accompany her, to which he gratefully agreed.  
  
She wiped the lone tear that had fallen on her cheek away and paused to catch her breath. She reached a hand over onto her dressing table and picked up a crystal necklace, an amethyst netted in wire on a silver chain. It was supposed to protect her and heal her, but had failed so far. She wore it just the same, in hopes that it would help. She closed her fist around the crystal and took a breath.  
  
At that exact same moment, Xanne Malloy brought her own hand up and closed it around her onyx necklace, thinking of how to handle her own problems as her and Terrence Higgs walked down the lifeless Slytherin corridor. They each doubted the party, each doubting their dates and themselves as well. Penelope had a strong longing for Percy; Xanne didn't know exactly what she felt for Terrence, as it had never crossed her mind before. She they both smiled weakly at the same moment and made their ways to the party. 


	11. Chapter XI: The Christmas Party

[A/N: This chapter will answer some of the questions you may or may not have been asking yourself. If it doesn't, perhaps I will in future chapters. This was incredibly entertaining to write.]  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter XI: The Christmas Party  
  
The Great Hall was magnificent. Oliver couldn't really think of words that could describe how awe inspiring the room had become. There were hundreds of candles suspended in the ceiling, which was dark, but sprinkled fluffy white snowflakes down. The flakes dissolved about ten feet before they hit the ground. The atmosphere was simply amazing. The seventh year class was quite a bit larger than he expected, even without the presence of the younger students it would have been a lot. Sleigh bells and chimes sounded from around the hall as everyone's favorite carols radiated through the air.  
  
A giant Christmas tree was bedecked with ornaments with house colors and students' names on them. The quidditch players got a pleasant surprise, their ornaments were figurines dressed in their house colors on broomsticks that flew in circles. Each and every ornament seemed to have a life of its own. The Gryffindor ornaments had roaring lions, the Slytherins had hissing snakes, Ravenclaws: squawking eagles, Hufflepuff had badgers just sitting there. Nobody really knew what badgers actually did, but they were there nonetheless.  
  
Some of the Slytherins, it seemed, had charmed the small quidditch players in the red and gold uniforms to crash into the tree repeatedly. Oliver didn't mind really, he was still marveling at the site of the Hall. Katie, on the other hand, noticed her ornament knocking into the tree and made her way over to it with her wand out.  
  
Oliver pushed his way through the crowd and over to a table and waited for Percy to show up. He a bit thirsty and began to crave a butterbeer. Seconds later, one appeared on the table in front of him. He twisted off the cap, somewhat unsure of, and somewhat grateful for some of the flat out bizarre things his Headmaster could think up.  
  
*****  
  
Percy made his way into the Hall after being waylaid by Professor McGonagall, not so amazed at the decorations because he himself had helped create this masterpiece. Once again, he was proud to be Head boy as he saw the glowing looks on the faces of his peers.  
  
Over the heads of several students, he saw Oliver Wood sitting alone at one of the round tables stationed to the side of the hall. The boy was casually sipping a butterbeer and looked like he was in deep thought. Percy smirked; wondering if there was any time that Wood was not thinking about quidditch. He walked over to the table and sat next to his friend.  
  
"Where's Katie?" he asked, putting his hand onto the table expectantly and picking up the butterbeer that appeared there.  
  
"Went to go bitch at the Slytherins for charming the ornaments," Oliver couldn't help but snigger at this, the girls on his quidditch team were so immature.  
  
"Those were Penelope's idea," Percy said, taking a swig of his drink. Oliver was shocked. He was shocked that Percy could speak of Penelope so nonchalantly. And he was shocked that Percy was not running over to the tree and reprimanding the Slytherins. But in spite of that, he was happy that his friend could relax once in a while and have a good time without slipping into responsibility mode.  
  
"Look who's just arrived," Oliver pointed towards the doors to the Hall. He had looked over there in the first place because some of the girls from the Slytherin table had begun chattering madly, obviously jealous.  
  
Percy turned to see Xanne walk in happily on the arm of the new Slytherin quidditch captain, Terrence Higgs. There was no doubt that the two of them cleaned up nicely from the way they had looked after their win earlier that day. Higgs was positively glowing, a solid grin shone from his face.  
  
"Good for her," Percy said sincerely. "I was wondering who she was going with. As long as it's not Flint I'm okay. And Higgs is a prefect!"  
  
"They're also the enemy," Oliver said, frowning. "They're two sevenths of the Slytherin quidditch team."  
  
"Oh, calm down," Percy said, motioning them over. He truly hoped things had been getting better for her since the incident. Higgs nudged Xanne and she waved to Percy as the two walked to the table and sat down.  
  
"Hi Xanne," Oliver said, unenthusiastically, before turning to the boy and grunting. "Higgs."  
  
"Good evening Wood," Xanne tried not to smile at the boy's behavior.  
  
"Wood," Higgs simply nodded firmly.  
  
Percy turned to the girl and they both burst out laughing. The other members of their table looked clueless so Percy paused to explain that the Higgs and Wood were hilarious with their house rivalries. For a moment, the two continued to act ridiculous. Higgs softened and smiled. Wood folded his arms, scowling again.  
  
The music became louder more elegant and the lights dimmed. Percy told the group that it was time to dance. Oliver grimaced before explaining that he simply would not dance. Before there was another word about it, Katie Bell appeared behind him, having presumably solved her Slytherin problem. She wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him clear out of his chair, dragging him onto the floor. The other three chuckled.  
  
Higgs, taking his cue, stood up and bowed dapperly, extending his hand in a Victorian fashion. His blue eyes were sparkling and he spoke in a smooth baritone voice.  
  
"May I have this dance milady?" Xanne was almost claimed by another bout of laughter, but thought better of it. She turned to Percy, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"Yes, go, I'll be alright," he waved his hand at her.  
  
She turned and took the hand extended before her in a mockingly dainty manner before standing up gracefully and having him lead her out into the middle of the floor. Her nose was so far up in the air in her extremely fake regal demeanor, Percy feared she might inhale some of the snowflakes. He watched them go and took another sip of his butterbeer, surveying the party. Everything seemed to be in order.  
  
*****  
  
Penelope and Roger arrived a bit later than everyone else did; she needed a bit of time to collect herself before setting out. One thing was for sure, she wouldn't miss the party for anything; it was her seventh and final year. Davies obliged willingly when she had told him to wait a bit longer for her, he was just glad she had considered him for her date.  
  
Walking through the front doors, Penelope glanced over at Davies and her heart eased when she saw how blissful he looked. This party would be one that they remembered for a while.  
  
The snow was still falling from the enchanted ceiling, still touching none of the heads that danced gracefully in the center of the hall. This sight alone made Penelope feel a great deal better about her own misfortune, though without even thinking about it, she found herself looking for Percy.  
  
She saw him sitting alone at a table, dark from the lack of light. He was clutching a butterbeer in his hands, looking smug about something or other. Apparently his friends had left him for the dance floor. She fought the urge to rush over to him and invite him to dance; instead, she guided Roger over to a round table near to Percy's that held a few Ravenclaws from her year.  
  
"Penny darling, you look fabulous!" Evelyn Brocklehurst gushed as Roger pulled out a chair for Penelope. Her eyes shone with what could almost be envy as the dashing quidditch player gallantly took his seat, but did not take his eyes off of his date the entire time.  
  
"Thank you Eve, you're looking splendid yourself." Then she greeted the rest of the table, which seemed to include lots of Ravenclaw girls lacking dates. Each and every one of their faces seemed to bore into hers and the longer she sat, the more discomfort she felt. Then, as if reading her mind, Roger spoke.  
  
"Penelope, do you want to dance with me?" he mumbled nervously. She merely nodded and followed him out onto the floor. He didn't look back until they were at the center, and he took her hand in his before placing his arm around her waist. It was not a sensual dance, or a melancholy dance, it was rather touching actually. He held her as they rotated around; casually meeting eyes every once in a while, but mostly just observing their surroundings.  
  
Marcus Flint was looking morose as a younger girl with dark red hair clung to him, pressing her face into his chest. This could hardly constitute as dancing, but the girl seemed content with not letting the older boy go. His eyes roamed and eventually locked on Penelope's. Realizing that there was at least one person witnessing this sheer embarrassment, he scowled at her, as if daring her to keep watching. She looked away and made a note to leave Flint alone.  
  
Across the floor, past Flint and the girl, there was a cluster of Slytherin pairs who seemed to be enjoying themselves. One of the couples, Martin Avery and Aremie MacDougal, were attached at the lips as their hands moved over the other's body. Penelope had to bite her lip before she said something, or worse, walk over and scold the pair.  
  
A cute twosome was arguing with one another about something. She saw only the back of the boy and heard the nature of the argument and grinned. Only one burly boy with scruffy brown hair would be arguing with quidditch in the middle of such an elegant atmosphere. The two turned slightly and Penelope saw Oliver Wood and Katie Bell having a good-natured quarrel about bludgers and quaffles or something of that sort.  
  
*****  
  
"I want to tell you something," the dark-haired girl said to the boy so close to her. Terrence looked back with a sort of apprehensive look upon his face as she solemnly took her hand out of his and wrapped it around his neck with the other. Her voice was little more than a whisper, but still audible over the music. "I had a bit of trouble recently, you know the Marcus scenario, correct?"  
  
"I had heard rumors."  
  
"Well, there was more than that, the rumors I mean. It's more than just those rumors. You see I'm not very good at sharing things. That sounds like I'm a selfish five year old, I mean I don't open up to people very easily unless I have a good reason to. If truth were told, I was never fully open even with Marcus, but though we had our difficult times, I've never felt closer to anyone before. We just understood each other somehow, and it doesn't quite fit, but I never felt the certain something that could let me tell him things."  
  
"If you don't feel it with me, you don't have to tell me, I understand," he looked grave and a bit upset.  
  
"No, I want to tell you. I want to tell you because I do feel something with you. But something happened to make me realize. Someone told me something and I found that I'm not ready to be intimate yet, I need to sort some things out first," her eyes wandered past his head and she saw Percy Weasley sitting alone at the table, looking at something on the dance floor. Xanne turned and saw Oliver and Katie laughing at something as they slowly revolved. "All things aside, I'm not doing so well Terrence. I'm being faced with a lot at the moment. I'm taking year two O.W.L.'s soon. We're going to play Gryffindor for the quidditch cup I just know it. People are talking about Head Girl. Marcus and I went our separate ways. There was a point a few days ago when I was running on empty; about two weeks without any sleep.I'm beginning to crack."  
  
"I had no idea," he choked out. "I had assumed that everything was.you know, great. You seemed like you had it all."  
  
"But it's not really that bad. I'm fine now actually. There was one hurdle actually," she said grimly, shifting her arms a bit and eventually taking her left arm from behind his neck. "I-I.There was one night when I couldn't do it anymore. My eyes were bloodshot from crying so much, and I was bruised like mad from quidditch and I just. I just let go."  
  
In the soft light he could make out a serrated white line across her already pale wrist. His blue eyes widened as it dawned upon him what this meant.  
  
"You've always had a place to go you know. Dumbledore, Snape, hell, you could've even gone to McGonagall, Flitwick or Sprout if it was that bad."  
  
"You don't understand," Xanne murmured, looking down into his chest and avoiding his piercing eyes.  
  
"Oh, no, I understand perfectly. You tried to rid the world of yourself. But what I don't understand is why. You have everything. You play quidditch, you're doing well in your classes, not top marks, but you do well. You're very pretty, or at least I think so, and Marcus must have because.you know." He was becoming quite irate. After seeing the look on her face, though, he softened a bit. "If you say that it was that bad, it must have been. I'm sorry."  
  
She pulled away and walked over to a large table of Slytherins in the corner, he followed. Their faces were harsh and calculating, wondering if they really wanted two prefects to come and spoil the fun. Two faces that they recognized immediately were Leanor de Sade and Marcus Flint, staring directly at them.  
  
"Evening Xanne, Higgs," he grunted, swirling liquid around in a glass he had before him, seeming far too eloquent.  
  
"Good evening Marcus, Leanor," Xanne smiled as warmly as she could, a bit shaken from what she had just gotten off of her chest. Higgs simply nodded, and put his hand atop Xanne's where it rested on the table.  
  
"How are things?" Marcus asked, taking a long sip of whatever it was he had in his glass.  
  
"Just fine," she answered.  
  
"Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about-." He began.  
  
"Look Marcus, I've been meaning to talk to you as well, but this isn't the time or the place." She reached over and took the bothersome glass he was swirling from his hand. Bringing it up to her nose, she sniffed it, and almost gagged at the alcohol content. Then, surprising everyone around her, Flint especially, she brought it to her lips and threw it back as if it were no more than pumpkin juice. "There is no alcohol allowed at Hogwarts."  
  
"How noble of you, disposing of the evidence," Leanore quipped, snuggling closer to Flint.  
  
"How noble of you, easing our minds and becoming the slattern we always knew you were," Xanne said bitingly. Higgs' jaw dropped and Flint shuddered with silent laughter.  
  
"How dare you?"  
  
"Actually it's quite easy, you see, it just comes to me and I say it. That last one was oddly fitting, was it not?" She raised an eyebrow at the enraged Leanor.  
  
"You never could be outdone could you," Leanor fumed. She reached down and picked up her goblet, flicking it as hard as she could across the table, sending pumpkin juice in a stream towards the dark-haired girl. The juice never did hit her, instead it froze in mid air and Leanor turned to face Marcus Flint who was now holding his wand rather tightly. "She's just jealous. She's jealous that I'm prettier than she is. She's jealous that I brought the quidditch captain as my date."  
  
Higgs, Flint and Xanne all looked at Leanor as if she had lost her mind. Once she realized that everyone was staring at her, she stomped her foot and stormed off.  
  
"Slattern?" Flint mused. "I'll have to use that one some time."  
  
"If you happen to use it referring to me, and I hear about it, you might not have a broomstick at the end of the day, and I don't mean to play quidditch with." Xanne said nonchalantly, inspecting her fingernails, still very much amazed that there hadn't been a catfight.  
  
"Point taken," he pulled a flask out of his pocket and began to take sips from it. After eyeing the looks the two across from him had painted on their faces, he pocketed the flask once again and sat back. "How is the team doing?"  
  
"Fine," Higgs said simply. He couldn't help but feel the conversation was extremely awkward. Also, he was amazed that the girl was actually speaking in jest to this person. This person who had hurt so recently, but then, there were a lot of things he just didn't understand.  
  
"Fine?!" Flint demanded, leaning forward and losing some of his composure and gaining the maniacal glint Xanne knew all too well. "How the fuck is my team doing, Higgs?"  
  
"They're doing well, Flint," Higgs stated, scowling. "Keep your voice down and watch your language."  
  
"Excuse me," he said, leaning back and clearing his throat. "Terribly sorry for that outburst."  
  
"I'll leave you two to quidditch talk," Xanne interjected, standing and walking off.  
  
"Exactly," Flint uttered. "Quidditch talk."  
  
*****  
  
"Malloy! Er, Xanne!" he called as he hurried over to her.  
  
"What is it Percy?" she asked, a bit alarmed at the look on his face.  
  
"I need to tell you something," he seemed so excited it almost radiated from his face.  
  
"Percy, we're in the middle of the dance floor, I should hardly think-."  
  
"Oh, right," he said, taking her into his arms and shifting from foot to foot slightly. "But anyway, I've realized what my problem was. Remember I said that I was going through some things as well.of course you remember. Well, I see that I've only had eyes for one person. It's a pity I didn't see it before."  
  
"I'm not going to ask," she said, seeming a bit unsure.  
  
"Oh, don't worry, it's not you," he said, dismissing the thought.  
  
"Thanks for the reassurance," she replied sardonically.  
  
"But what should I do? It's been so long you know, Penny and I began dating so long ago, and we never actually 'got together.' It just sort of happened."  
  
"You know Weasley," Xanne grinned. "Forgive me for saying this, but you're beginning to sound like a schoolgirl."  
  
"Oh sod off!"  
  
"Alright then," she shrugged, taking her hands from him and turning to walk away.  
  
"No, no, no! Don't go! What should I do? No, let me rephrase that a bit, what would you do?"  
  
"Think about who you're asking, Percy," she calmly whispered.  
  
"I know exactly whom I'm asking, what would you do?" His blue eyes were frantic and sparkling. This was the first time she had ever seen him virtually ecstatic, his dark red hair fell in strands into his eyes and his mouth was grinning so broadly she feared he would never be able to frown again, if that was a bad thing. "How did you and Marcus.you know?"  
  
"That is not what you want to do. But if you feel this strongly, just go for it. Go and tell her, go and sweep her off her feet, hell, go and snog her senseless for all I care. This is for you."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, and I won't even ask why you smell like vodka," he said quickly, planting a kiss on her cheek and rushing off.  
  
That was a happy ending in itself. Percy was no longer the loner he had become since the split from Penelope (not to mention ignored the chance to tell her off). But then, he wasn't really a loner if he had friends. But then, maybe for Percy it was friendship that he needed to get back on his feet. They always said a man who has friends is the richest of all.  
  
"Abandoned on the dance floor," someone said behind her. She turned and found familiar black eyes waiting for her. He held out his hand and she did the logical thing, taking it.  
  
Marcus Flint pulled her into him, guiding her arms around his neck before clasping his own hands in the small of her back. They did not speak, just moved with the constant stream of music that had ceased only to change songs for almost two hours. It seemed so wrong and yet felt so natural, so right.  
  
*****  
  
Percy's eyes scoured the room. Everything was so dim he could barely make out anything. Trust it to get dark right when he needed light the most. The person was not on the dance floor that was for sure. There was no sign of them over near the door. He was actually about to give up when he caught sight of their back, standing near the back entrance, most likely waiting as their date used the loo.  
  
He rushed across the dance floor, almost elbowing couples out of the way in his rush. His eyes were blazing and determined and his hair blew back from his face in frenzy. First twenty feet away, then ten, then five, then two, he reached out an arm and grabbed their shoulder, spinning them around swiftly.  
  
Then just like that, he caught the gaping mouth of a surprised Oliver Wood with his own and wrapped his arms around the back of his neck with pure satisfaction.  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
[I hope that explains a bit of whatever you were wondering. It just felt like the next logical step. I love it, love it, love it! Keep REVIEWing like you have! Thanks for even reading this far.] 


	12. Chapter XII: Fickle

[A/N: Very sorry for the delay.  I've been swamped with things upon things.] 

*****

*****

*****

Chapter XII: Fickle 

The world seemed to stop, he heard no more music and the people all around him seemed to vanish when in actuality, and they were all staring at this scene unfolding before them.  Had they just witnessed the Head Boy practically ravage the Gryffindor quidditch captain, or was it just a dream, a very bizarre dream?

Wood hadn't realized what happened until a few moments had passed.  He had felt the hand on his shoulder, and had felt the lips on his, but knew nothing of the person clutching him.  The only thing that stopped him from assuming Katie Bell had returned from the lavatory was the haze of red hair that was around his face.  The sheer absurdity of it all turned into sheer frenzy.  He reached out a hand and took a fistful of the other person's robes before forcefully shoving them away.  With distance between them, he could make out not only the hair, but also the entire face, complete with the familiar wide and expectant blue eyes that shone brightly.

"Now Oliver, I know what you're going to say," the red haired boy started quickly.

"I find that extremely hard to believe," he retorted darkly, scowling.  "All I'll say is I hope you're being paid well for that dare.  I hope you're being paid well enough so that you can give me my due for enduring that."

Percy seemed baffled, finding the other boy's response quite hard to believe, and not to mention far from what he expected.  Oliver's words, though biting, did succeed in doing one thing.  The small crowd that had gathered, all watching intently had begun to disperse.  Some even chuckled lightheartedly as they left; what a funny bet it had been.

"I need to use the loo myself right about now," Oliver raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly over at Percy.  He then turned and walked briskly out of the hall, robes flaring slightly.

After a moment of cringing in the eyes of the entire seventh year class, or those who had continued to watch his expression, Percy made his own way out of the hall.  The hallway was deserted; he walked slowly, pondering about what it was he had just done, until the music from the Great Hall had faded away.

Of course it was then that Percy realized the minor flaw in his bold plan.  One minor circumstance he had not taken into account.  It had never crossed his mind, the case being that Oliver did not fancy boys.  How could he have overlooked such a key point.  It seemed the gossip had spread like wildfire, amongst the stationary occupants of course.  A few of the portraits were shaking their heads, disappointed.  Others smiled politely.  It was almost a relief when he reached the door to the boys' lavatory…almost.

The door flew open and a burly arm shot out, grabbing the front of his robes, before yanking him roughly into the brightly lit room.

"What the hell were you thinking?!  Do you realize that you've just embarrassed me in front of the entire seventh year?!" he roared, minty breath hissing between his teeth.

"I-," Percy was about to explain, but Oliver's grip on his robes tightened and the larger boy shoved the head boy into the wall.

"You don't say anything.  You've done enough.  You just don't walk up to someone in the middle of a room and…and just kiss them!"

"I know, I should've asked if you fancied wizards before I went ahead and assumed things."  He hung his head down and began to sound defeated.  Oliver pushed him into the wall once more.

"No, you should've asked if I wanted to kiss you," before Percy had a chance to realize what this meant, Oliver brought his determined face down towards Percy's and this time it was his lips that bore down.  It was much less awkward than the kiss in the Hall, and instinctively, Percy's hands cupped the other boy's face.  Every ounce of confusion and doubt suddenly made sense to each of them.

*****

"Something's troubling you, I can tell," Roger whispered into the ears of his dance partner.  Her eyes had been elsewhere all night.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she simply smiled lightly and continued to steer him back and forth.

"You can tell me, you know," he insisted.  His face held such a benign expression; she couldn't help but give in and let him know.

"It's just…I have a bit of an obsession."

"Don't we all?"

"I suppose, except my obsession is perfection.  I knew the moment I set foot into this school that I would be Head Girl.  My studies always came before everything.  I didn't even have any friends until…" a look of painful realization came to her lightly freckled face.  She suddenly sighed as a tear leaked out of her eye.  

"Now, now, I'm sure you have had friends.  I mean, you're around the Ravenclaw girls a lot.  You even had Weasley," he cursed himself silently for mentioning that last part.

"That's the thing, now that Percy's gone, I don't know what to do.  I've had a set routine for the past two years and IT'S ALL BEEN BLOWN TO HELL!" a few couples dancing nearby looked over, alarmed at the raising of her voice.  Roger raised a finger to her lips and smirked slightly.  She became irritated at this expression and vocalized it immediately.  "I'll have you know that this is no laughing matter.  The Head Girl of Hogwarts is a title held with honor, prestige, and above all, grace.  I intend to uphold all of them.  What, may I ask, is so funny?"

"You're cute when you're angry," he grinned, brushing a stray curl away from her face.  She slapped at his hand.

"I am most certainly not, I'll have you know that I'm positively ruthless when I'm angry!" a pink tinge appeared in her cheeks.  "I have been known to frighten any student in this castle!  I also think that my last encounter with the Bloody Baron ended quite well, and with me as the victor!  I-."

"Penelope," Roger interjected quickly.

"What?" she sighed, exasperated.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Why on earth would you…what?  That's not something you come out and ask." She shook her head, staring intently back at him.

"Well you seem like the type that would castrate me if I just went out and did it," he blushed when admitting this.

"Oh, piss off, I'm not that rigid."

"Language Miss Clearwater," he mock scolded.  "Admit it Penelope, you are one of the most straight-laced people I have ever met, and I absolutely love it."

She gave him a calculating look before ceasing all movement and firmly grasping the front of his robes, thus initiating the most spontaneous thing she had ever done in her life.  Most of what she felt was complacency, and she paid no mind to the sniggers arising around as the Head Girl practically devoured the younger quidditch player.

*****

The lights were dim and the party seemed to be dying down.  There was a good deal of people remaining on the dance floor though, including two of the ex-Slytherin captain and his former chaser.  After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Xanne heard Marcus' surly whisper in her ear.  

"I've missed you," his breath was warm on her neck.  Each moment passed slowly after that, and she couldn't find anything to say that seemed fitting.  She did miss him in a way, but it seemed a great burden had been lifted off her back since he had been gone from her life.

Feeling that actions spoke louder than words, she took her hands from his neck and turned to walk away.  His grip on her was too tight and he only pulled her in closer.

"Why do you fight it?" Marcus demanded.  He didn't seem angry, just intent on getting answers to the questions running through his mind.  "We were perfect.  One slip up and I'm unconscious in the bottom of a bloody bath."

"I'm not fighting it, I've left it behind," she said, a bit quieter than her usual brash tone.  "We were not perfect.  We used each other and you know it.  I don't want to use anyone anymore, and I don't want to be used."

"So you want Higgs?" he blurted out rather quickly.

"No, I don't want Higgs, I want you to let me go Flint," she shifted her arm slightly and he found his hands springing apart as she backed away clutching her wand.  "I'm through talking.  Don't know why I even began dancing with you."

"It's what you know.  You must admit we're good together." 

"_Were Flint…we __were good together." Xanne turned and walked across the dark dance floor, weaving in and out of the pairs.  Eventually, she reached the front doors of the Hall and walked through them.  She didn't belong at a seventh year party in the first place.  Down the stairs and into the dungeon, she could make out someone sitting on the cold stone floor, their feet stretching out into the corridor.  Once she got closer, the blue robes seemed a bit familiar._

"You didn't stay at the party?"

"Of course I didn't stay at the party, my date mysteriously disappeared," the barely visible face forced a smirk.

"I'm so sorry Terrence.  I sort of lost track of time, and wasted it just the same."  Xanne walked over to where he sat, leaned on the wall and slid down beside him.  It didn't matter if she had just ruined her robes; she probably wouldn't need them for a while anyway.

"So what did he say?" the corners of Terrence's mouth twitched.

"More like what he tried to say.  I didn't really let him finish his complete thought, which probably would've been something along the lines of 'I'm sorry, now let's go have a make-up shag.'"

"Not the most tactful bloke at Hogwarts, is he?" he grinned and took her cold hand in his before gasping.  "You're freezing, let's get back to the common room.  If you want, we could talk more."

"Alright," Xanne agreed and took his hand as he helped her to her feet.

                                    *                                  *                                  *

 They had sat there talking as he walked by.  Neither looking up, but both knowing it was he who had just entered the common room.  Flint stalked through the corridor and down to his dorm.  All of the beds were empty, as of course they would be, considering it wasn't anywhere near dawn and the seventh year Slytherins were probably somewhere getting sloshed beyond belief.  His, on the other hand, was not empty.

It was vacant of people, but lying there on his pillow was a black envelope with loopy silver letters across the front.  By turning his head in the faint light, he could make out his name.  'Marcus Cado Flint,' it glimmered slightly.  Flint slid one of his callused fingers under the seal and lifted it carefully.  Slowly, he pulled out the folded piece of parchment and nervously read the thick black text.

'_Be at the __Astronomy__Tower__ at _4:00___ sharp.  If you are missing, there will be consequences.' _

So she _did_ want him back.  He knew it.

*****

*****

*****

[If anyone is still reading this…be kind, please rewind…I mean review.]


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